A tribute to Kathleen Bick
A Mother’s love in a collection of poetry
by Nikki Bick

All of us hold many roles and titles within our life. I didn’t know Kathleen in her roles as Daughter, Child, Cellist, Teacher, new Wife or Mother of young children. I did however see her in her position of:
Mum – the devoted mother of her four adult offspring, whom she was unashamedly proud of.
Grandma – the loving grandmother to Curtis, Marcus and Abi, who could all bring a sparkle to her blue eyes.
Wife - of Ray, who could still make her giggle in the way I imagine she did when they first met.

I knew her most though as my Mother-in-law who could not have done more to welcome me into her home and the life of her laughing boy (her youngest son Andy), referring to herself as Mummy B in her cards to me. I could tell so many stories of experiences with Kathleen that would make all of us smile, it was hard though to define a moment where the quirky stopped and the dementia began so rather than tell stories of events that may not distinguish the true essence of her I want to instead focus on some feelings. When I think of Kathleen the overwhelming emotions that I saw in her were passion, fun, generosity, but most overwhelmingly - Love. Most clearly this was displayed to me in her absolute joy at setting eyes on, or even just talking about, all of her children. The moment when she first cradled Marcus as a baby gave me the tiniest insight into the overwhelming love she must have felt for her own children when they were born.

Because I feel that, in heavens above,
The angels, whispering to one another,
Can find, among their burning terms of love,
None so devotional as that of ‘Mother’.

Extract from – ‘To My Mother’ by Edgar Allen Poe (1809-49)

When she finally left her home, as is often the case her belongings became distributed amongst her family. We have many of her books, in the hope that her family’s love of reading will be passed on to Marcus & Abi. Amongst these are a collection of poetry books to which I looked for inspiration for today. The second poem I am going to share with you was the poem she was reading after Ray passed away which can harness much better than I the deep love she felt for him.

Not with scarfs or perfumed gloves
Do these celebrate their loves:
Not by jewels, feasts and savors,
Not by ribbons or by favors,
But by the sun-spark on the sea,
And the cloud-shadow on the lea,
The soothing lapse of morn to mirk,
And the cheerful round of work.
Their cords of love so public are,
They intertwine the farthest star:
The throbbing sea, the quaking earth,
Yield sympathy and signs of mirth;
Is none so high, so mean is none,
But feels and seals this union;
Even the fell Furies are appeased,
The good applaud, the lost are eased.

Extract from – ‘Initial Love, Daemonic Love Celestial Love’ by Ralph Waldo Emerson 1876

The last poem is the emotion I want to leave you with is where I began, her great love of her children:

Sweet is the image of the brooding dove!
Holy as Heaven a mother's tender love!
The love of many prayers and many tears,
Which changes not with dim declining years,
The only love which on this teeming earth
Asks no return from Passion's wayward birth;
The only love that, with a touch divine,
Displaces the Self from the heart's most secret shrine.

Extract from - ‘The Dream’ by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton (1808-77)