Goodbye Coll

This was a fictitious piece I wrote many years ago on a creative writing course, probably from a photo similar to the above. It seemed fitting to print it now as to encourage those who have lost ones recently or at any time, to give an authentic recollection of someone that has died.
I suppose I’ve motivated for selfish reasons, which is that I’d want any recollection of me to be a well rounded (or should that be jagged?!) account of me.
I find the ‘angelic’, ‘totally wonderful’, ‘faultless’ portrayals as poor representations of a wholesome life.

Goodbye Coll
“Dear Colleen, or as we used to call her, Coll.
Well, she can’t hear us now. Not that we know of, any road.
What a woman! What power, what strength!
That frail body in the coffin, well, that wasn’t really her.
Dear sweet Coll

My God, what a temper she had! Her eyes bulging from their sockets, that jabbing finger of blame and accusation arrowing in at your heart.
God, that was a time to run away if ever there was!
And her laughter! You remember, don’t you? Oh yes, you could hear that a street away, you could. High ringing like the church bell itself it was.
Head thrown back, neck stretched like a swan, her whole frame shaking with the joy of the moment.

Oh, dear Coll, how I’ll miss you. Always ready to pass the time of day – no, that’s not true, not always. Sometimes she would be the ghost of herself, not there, looking right through you, no, right past you as if somehow time and space had got themselves all of a jumble and she was seeing somewhere else. No, she was somewhere else..
But when you were there, present, oh what a friend, what an ally.
It’s a wonder your shoulder didn’t suffer from rot or mildew or something, what with the amount of tears that were shed there.
Ah well, I must be getting along. Thanks Coll, dear Colleen.
Thanks for it all.”

What would you like to be said about you?