Nine becomes eight.

I started with nine, but now there are eight.

How can that be?

Families are supposed to expand not shrink,

Or only in old age.

As a young person I thought I might be blessed with offspring of my own,

And hopefully as time progressed grandchildren too.

But no, that was not meant to be,

Or at least it didn’t transpire that way.

I was always one of four,

The youngest of my siblings.

A readymade family.

And as my parents left the stage early,

My siblings became my nucleus.

Then they started multiplying,

And I learnt the joy of being an Aunt.

My Mum’s sister was my role model of the loveliest human on Earth.

I wasn’t that, 

But each sibling produced three,

And I learnt to love them each in turn.

And hopefully I meant a little to each of them too.

Nine of them in total.

Each with their own personalities,

Joys, hopes, fears and tears,

As they moved through stages.

But one of them began to struggle,

And in turn upset the balance of her family.

The ups and downs, became more extreme lows.

We each tried to raise her level,

And we loved each other in turn.

And then the fateful phone call.

One life stubbed out early.

The sorrow will lengthen into all our lives.

How can nine become eight?

It isn’t right.

For me it will always remain nine in my heart.

Her running, her composing, her caring, will continue in my mind.

Love will continue.

Nine does not become eight,

It remains as nine.

But in another corner of the family, one of the nine couples up,

And low there is another little being to love.

So nine is not eight.

But nine is ten.

Jocelyn Murgatroyd.  

Jocelyn Murgatroyd.  

February 2026.