Hi there and welcome to “The Rosie Show”
It’s a shit show right now
Probably wouldn’t wanna pay front row seats if I were you
Unless you want to see hour long tears
Someone confessing their fears
I waited years
For someone nice to come along
Ignored the list of endless allergies
And mansplaining tendencies
Because he was there
When she couldn’t be
And I thought he cared
But that had an expiry
His idea of giving space
Felt like a kick in the face
When I thought I had cried all the tears
That were left in me
“It’s all getting a bit much isn’t it?”
A bit much?
My mum just died
I think allowed to cry
And have one too many wines
“Wipe those tears and just be fine, ok?”
God, yeah…. I think that’s how it works
Grief
It’s very brief
But when you’ve invested in a reusable handkerchief
I think you’re in it for the long haul
And I’m sorry for the brawls
And the upsetting phone calls
But I don’t know what to tell you
I hope this doesn’t happen to you
Because you’re going to feel like a fool
When it does
Actually
You won’t
Because you’ll be so stuck inside your own pain
Feel like your head is caving in on your brain
And you can only see rain
When the sun is shining the brightest it ever did
And you kid yourself that it might be her
My Mum
“Shining her light”
And it’s a constant fight
With having to bite
Your tongue on a daily basis
Because you are so angry
Angry with everything
With the world that took her so cruelly
And unexpectedly
With what feels like not an ounce of humanity
“When’s that counselling happening?”
Well, I can tell you a thing?
I’m not the only one that needs it
Because fuck me
(Actually, that was the only thing that was decent)
Show less passion
And find some compassion
Don’t leave your girlfriend lagging behind
And telling me your brother found it “all a bit much” when I had a cry
Because I had scattered my mother’s ashes that weekend
Which regretfully you participated in
I will not be made to bend and shape
My grief
To suit you and your family
So, get with reality
Because I know this year and a bit’s been shit
We all lived it
And are still living it
It’s not “The Rosie Show”
I wish it fucking was
Because it would be nice
If the curtains opened
If the lights came up
I can take that bow
And this can be
One
Big
Fuck off
West End show
Where my Mum is sitting in the crowd
Comfortably without pain
Cheering me on and looking so proud
*Yes, I think “we’re done”. I’ll send you a ticket when it’s on. But a seat right at the back…with a restricted view.
Follow Rosalind on Instagram @rosalindhullarts and on twitter @rosalindhullart.
0 comments on “The Rosie Show by Rosalind Hull”