Profile cover photo
Profile photo
Beverley Ward
57 followers -
I am a writer, coach and creative consultant.
I am a writer, coach and creative consultant.

57 followers
About
Beverley's posts

Post has attachment
Leave a little light on
I got your lamp back this week. As far as I know it was the last thing you were making. You'd sent me a photo of it one night and told me that it was neo-brutalist art. I wasn't sure how to respond, not really being a connoisseur of post-industrial chic. Yo...

Post has attachment
The food of love
At Wagamamas on a rare occasion when Paul let me buy him dinner because he was helping me with Christmas shopping after my mum's death 'People always wanted to feed Paul,' says your mum. This information makes me smile because it leads me to conclude that t...

Post has attachment
I would do it again
'Each griever must ask the question,   ‘Who am I, now that you’re gone?’   And the answer to that question
often revises one’s self-narrative. Grief is a story you tell yourself. It’s a
story of the   death   of someone you loved. It’s a story of the   life...

Post has attachment
Grief is not like sadness and we can't all be butterflies
It is a year today since I found your body. The anniversary of your death passed on Friday but, for me, it feels like it is still ahead. This time last year I didn't know you were dead. This time last year I didn't know what to think but I'm not sure that t...

Post has attachment
How do you survive that?
A year ago my beloved partner, Blacksmith Paul, died. We'd only been together for eight months, although we'd known each other when we were younger and not realised the depth of the connection that we shared. It is a tragic story of chances missed, bad timi...

Post has attachment
**
This time last year was the last time I spoke to Paul, by Messenger, the night before he died. I've told the story before. We had a chat about our respective days. Mine had included writing a poem about clouds in my writing group that day. I sent it to him ...

Post has attachment
The last time ever I saw your face
I don't remember the first time that I saw your face. I wish I did. I wrote a poem about it. It was the first thing I wrote after you died. All I could think about was all the years that we could have been together and weren't, all the chances that we'd mis...

Post has attachment
The condition of my heart
This is the scene. A writing workshop in a art space in Sheffield. A dozen or so writers brought together in a room to write their way through the gloom of a winter afternoon. And I am at the helm, as usual. conjuring ways to stir the creative juices, to fi...

Post has attachment
**
This is the scene. A writing workshop in a art space in Sheffield. A dozen or so writers brought together in a room to write their way through the gloom of a winter afternoon. And I am at the helm, as usual. conjuring ways to stir the creative juices, to fi...

Post has attachment
Spring is in the air
There have been some lovely springy days recently. The sun is pushing between clouds and there's a lightening of the sky. Bulbs that were hidden are peeping out of the soil, breaking through to feel the early spring warmth in the air. Your snowdrops are blo...
Wait while more posts are being loaded