Margaret Hazel Wright 1941-2001.
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When Maggie was in palliative care at Credit Valley Hospital in February 2001 following a long battle with lung cancer we talked about how we always looked forward to seeing the first daffodils in the spring and how we had done that since childhood. |
During this time, she was able to enjoy the frequent visits of friends and family while feeling the love and concern they had for her. I am amazed at how gracious she remained through these last few days.
I wrote this poem and it was read at her funeral service in March 2001.
You Are Her Daffodils
No spring, I fear for my dear love.
No daffodils to burst upon her sight.
Only the firs and cedars through the shade
Where drizzling snow and finches dash.
Her guardian angels, by her side, stand tall
While dusty flowers idly wait the sun.
The scrambled havoc of the pillowed room
In which the snaking tubes of hope
Are bathed with softening, grey dawns, light.
In peace, she lays, each laboured breath
Shouts the triumphant harvest life has brought
For her, each daffodil comes coated ‘gainst the cold –
Their entering faces, smiling, creased with care,
But these are not fragile petals soon to fold.
The weathered stems her friendship slowly grew,
The care she gave reflected in their love,
A watered garden rooted round her bed
And proud, her friendly smiling angels wait,
To greet this lady who is loved by daffodils.
You are her daffodils.
~Bill Wright
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