At two thirty this afternoon Winifred Joan (Jan) Sewell fell calmly asleep after two days in hospital having been admitted with infection of the pancreas. Her breathing came slower and more gentle after some hours of laboured breathing and in the last hours it was clear that the pain that she had been suffering over the last days had receded. Quietly she stopped breathing and lay still.
She always said that Eric came back as Hawk to watch over us all ..... and when a Hawk flew over it was his watchful eye....
She said that she would wish to come back as a butterfly... and maybe she will...
And Bunnie in her best fashion brought a tear to my eye with her words .....
"Wagon Wheel House for Jan Sewell
"Are we nearly there yet?"
Red phone box on the horizon.
Pristine green grass with roses of every colour and scent
Skyscraping lilandie trees line the path
doors leading to warmth and love.
Pantry filled with jams and goodies waiting to be savoured.
Warm apple pie scents the air yearning for squirty cream.
Walking sticks at the ready, time to go.
Down a path, over a style, through a kissing gate.
Inquisitive cows approach bringing small pangs of fear.
But she defends and marches on leading the way.
Windswept hair and rosy cheeks, feet a little sore.
Home beckons.
A warm glow emits from the large yellow shade, shinning on baby dolls wrapped in butter trays. Baths filled with magic bubbles taller than trees.
Cozy bed with freshly ironed sheets invite the guest to blissfully dream of adventures passed.
Love from our Grandmamma which keeps us warm through the night.
Red phone box on the horizon.
Pristine green grass with roses of every colour and scent
Skyscraping lilandie trees line the path
doors leading to warmth and love.
Pantry filled with jams and goodies waiting to be savoured.
Warm apple pie scents the air yearning for squirty cream.
Walking sticks at the ready, time to go.
Down a path, over a style, through a kissing gate.
Inquisitive cows approach bringing small pangs of fear.
But she defends and marches on leading the way.
Windswept hair and rosy cheeks, feet a little sore.
Home beckons.
A warm glow emits from the large yellow shade, shinning on baby dolls wrapped in butter trays. Baths filled with magic bubbles taller than trees.
Cozy bed with freshly ironed sheets invite the guest to blissfully dream of adventures passed.
Love from our Grandmamma which keeps us warm through the night.
Today we say farewell for now but I will see you again. You will fly free like a butterfly and I will feel your soul with me always. I will miss you my beautiful Grandmamma.
When I gave her a photograph printed by a friend "H" - Harry Bryce... she wrote..
A brooding pirate troubadour
watches over me
and today a handsome
prince in black and white
with golden pony tail
shewed me true love
with deeds done
for a helpless old lady
who is so proud
to be your mother
Never wanted to be
this burden
your love and care
is beyond belief
I love you so much
Cannot tell you
too many times
how much I love you
But Mythodea fascinated her and my travels inspired many poems ...
The Road to Mythodea
The wheels roll on relentlessly
over unknown roads
and landscapes not seen before
vanish into the void
The music plays softly
and a voice bursts into song
at the thought of events to come
and mysteries beyond
Long black hair
shades topaz eyes
Golden tendrils
blowing in the winds
Dancing dervishes twist and turn
their corkscrew curls
shade evil beautiful faces
the mind returns
from last years forage
Back to Mythodea
the Unknown Mythodea
And so I remember ..
a life to celebrate ..
Jan Sewell - 9th June 1927 - 11th December 2017
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