One year on

This weekend saw the first anniversary of Misho's passing. It hardly seems possible. He still seems so close, as if any moment he could walk in or be seen at the bus stop or the cinema. And close in some other, less easy to define way, as if he really is still around but just outside our limited means of perceiving.

Much has happened. Misho's flat in Moseley has a new tenant. A new academic year at Brasshouse. Friends coming and going. But people remember Misho and talk about him still. Here are some things people have said this weekend.

From G in Italy:
Today is a special day, I know! Birmingham, 16th September  2011, at  7. 5! I cannot forget!
This is the reason why I got up at 6.30 ad I was able to sit down just now: I heard  Him coming in. And, as soon as I got up,  I need to take the pebbles I picked with him, in Wales, some years ago (2000?) .
We went there with Margaret, by car. And, while we were moving from one place to another, we stopped in Barmouth, on the coast of North Wales.
Eunice parked her car just in front of the sea - she knew that Misho and I  would enjoy very much the sea -  so, she waited in the car while Misho and  I  went on to the beach.  It was very windy and sand was blown into our faces!
But we were very excited because in different ways, the sight of the sea reminded us of  our home lands. It was very touching. We collected shells and pebbles on the beach, while the seagulls were squealing in the sky.
Shortly after we realized that the tide had come in and covered the rocks that we had walked across to get to the shingle beach. Therefore we were cut  off and had to take off our shoes and socks to paddle to the mainland.  Unforgettable day, indeed!

From B in Coventry:
His open heart touched and inspired me with my writing.

From R in Birmingham:
I've lit a candle for him and said Kaddish.

From A in Switzerland:
Ja mu palim svecu danas. [I lit a candle for him today]

From J and L in Solihull:
Happy memories of dear Miso!

From M in Birmingham:
A special day to remember the pain but also the joy.

And what I realise through all of this is that the support that surrounded Misho during his years in Birmingham and especially towards the end is still there, still ongoing, as much his gift to us as anything we may have done for him. And those little candle flames that meant so much to him while he was alive are filled with meaning for us now, too.

Unforgettable, indeed.

Cathy

All Souls

On Sunday 30th October there was a special All Souls service at Edgbaston Old Church. The Vicar, Alison Joyce, had given Misho and me much spiritual support while Misho was in the nursing home. During the service, the names of all those attached to her church who had passed away during the year were read out and a candle for each one lit on the altar. It was very moving. So many names, so many candles. Sometimes you need a new perspective. It certainly gave me a glimpse into the working life of a vicar with so many people to support!

Alison read a very special piece during the service and kindly sent me the text afterwards. I found it a useful insight and hope you like it too. 

‘What is dying?’ by Bishop Brent

A ship sails and I stand watching till she fades on the horizon, and someone at my side says, ‘She is gone’.

Gone where? Gone from my sight, that is all; she is just as large as when I saw her … The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me, not in her; and just at the moment when someone at my side says ‘she is gone’, there are others who are watching her coming, and other voices take up a glad shout, ‘There she comes!’

And that is dying.

The importance of a page

Walking in October sun
I see ...

a no-name house;
its shutters barred,
the veranda empty,

no one picks
the figs to spread
on bread for tea,

underneath the fir tree
no one sits to write
or listen to the sea,

there are no stories of the sea,
there is no tide
no ebb or flow for me.

Yet ...

tethered to the quay
is a nutshell boat
and a man nearby,

'rather small for you'
I joke, glad to have
some company on the way,

'when all is said and done
I can make myself to be
any shape in poetry'

he laughs, and tears
a page out from his book
which like a leaf takes flight,

cartwheels over water,
as if it wants to be
out of sight before the ink
has dried.

'Why do you write?'
I ask and look away
to watch more pages para glide
across the bay.

'My thoughts leave home,
it is my autumn' I hear
him say-or has he heard me?

I do not know
so turn my head,
but man and boat have disappeared.



For Misho who understood the absence of things.

What's Your Memory of Milorad?

Photo by John Dolan

We all have our own memories of Misho - friend, poet, teacher, colleague. Why not share one of your memories with us?

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I first met Misho in September '99 at the MAC. Martin introduced us. We were all there to see a film, Midsummer Night's Dream with Kevin Cline (not a great movie as it turned out). We had a coffee together and Misho offered me a poem to read, as he often did when meeting new people. The poem moved me so deeply I couldn't respond. 'Now let the expert comment,' said Misho rather archly I felt, taking the poem from me and handing it to Martin. But for me, the world had already changed. Utterly, you might say. I started writing after that and poetry (not just the writing - the way of perceiving the world) was the foundation, the bed-rock of our mutual understanding and friendship. The poem? 'Solo'. [I'll find a copy and add it]

Making Waves

As we move through life we leave a wake. Some of us make waves but Misho’s wake spread wider and wider because he had a great capacity to make friends – friends who stayed in contact. His special capacity was to introduce friends to other friends with the result that many benefited. Cathy and I have many friends today both here and in Croatia which we would never have met without Misho’s wake crossing and re-crossing others in all directions. During his last illness these friends became a great support, strength and encouragement not only to Misho but also to Cathy (in particular) and myself and also many for each other.
When Cathy and I were in Croatia on holiday a few years ago we were up early one bright clear morning and went down to the seafront. The sea was an absolute mirror of blue, not a ripple. Then one little fishing boat came chugging round the point and across the view its wake came to us , disturbing the water for the first time that day and it also widened out to reach the further shore a mile away and then rebounded and interwove , it was clear to see, with more waves from the wake coming in again. Often we don’t see this in life but in Misho’s case it is clearer. He boat has carried on round the further point but the friendships and influences will go on bobbing up and down and to and fro nudging each other and disturbing the gulls, rocking memories, setting off other interactions, as all good poems and writings do to those who read them again and again.

So many memories

This is my favourite photo of Misho. It was taken in 2003, during his first return to Vodice. We took a boat trip with his father. Misho often seemed to be looking for something on the horizon, especially that magical place where the sea meets the sky.