Dear Alex, my anecdote....
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| A very little Esmie-Rose... |
25th June
2012
Dear Alex,
A long day, not
finishing till 8.30 with the kids when we get in from Monty’s cricket and hose
down outside, the mud!
Esmie sliced her
finger with a knife cutting oranges I had brought down and not seen she had
been hacking away at when I was preoccupied. Another mummy there was telling me
it was Dad day on Thursday, when dad’s are coming in to school to play, with Monty's year, a
cricket match with the kids at school, all dad’s were invited- we hadn’t
received the letter…
It would never have
come at the right time. But then everything, every event, every meal, every
outing, dog walk, getting ready for school, there’s always stark reminders that
you’re not there. A letter inviting you to school or not, even cooking eggs has
me in floods!
But it, just
again, was one of those moments I feel sad. For me, for you, for Monty. Because you
cannot be there.
We find ourselves
watching at times and realising weeks, months, years have just fled from our
grasp.
Funny, we all tell
ourselves to ‘get a grip’’ at times. Is this where the expression comes from?
As we feel constantly swept along by life’s huge brush strokes, inevitable and
too swift.
What is the ‘getting a
grip’ all about?
I can’t tell you, I do
not know, all I know is how I practice life since this happened to you. And
things have slowed. I am an observer at times, not just spinning along out of
control. Giving thanks. My book I write in, my internal thanks, at every dark
and difficult moment, I turn, I breathe, holding onto my lifeline, giving thanks to The Most High.
It makes me appreciate the moment. Take in what I do have, drink it in, not
letting it always pass so fast I miss it.
I write, and I write
the things I have been given in the day. A phone call, a coffee, time to see
you, a house to sleep in, the four kids. And what it does for me is makes me
realise what I do have. It makes me dig my heels in, thanking the Most High for
those things I frequently miss when I feel so caught up in the speed of life.
A song, bird song, a
new bird species that flies high. A spider taking off on it’s thread of web and
flying higher than I can perceive it with my eyes. A lady bird.
How silly it sounds,
but when I look, I find, and when at the times I feel my eyes are covered, my
eyes are so blackened by the night that I feel so oppressively at times, it
lights, illuminates the beauty of the things we have.
Now, our four biggest
blessings are all finally tucked up in bed, relatively clean. It’s 9pm, and I
have switched on the computer to write to you.
This morning I lost it,
I got caught in the flurry of a hasty school morning run. Things lost, shoes
not found, and when, already 5 minutes late, I was still looking for shoes for
Mitzi (school shoes lie drenched from puddle splashing yesterday, in the boot
of the car) I broke, I barked. I felt anger, frustration that there was just me
to do all this. Just me. I go to school, tear stained eyes, head down, and
cuddle the kids mummy love and sorry good-bye till 3pm.
Later on, I refocus,
as I have promised myself to do this week. It is only me, but at least there is
still me! And this is, at the moment, all these four gifts or ours have got.
Reigning time in,
giving thanks, my life line. It’s a strain to remember to give thanks at all
times, but I truly believe this refocusing is my most powerful tool. Cracking
through the concrete of disruption, grief, darkness…
Although at times it
feels like grabbing at thin air-there’s always something…
Me xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
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