Monday, 24 March 2014
Dear Alex, The Broken Bird's Egg.
Wind howls its music through the trees, the sea roars, the earth is alive with thunderous call. Sun is bright, dog pulls on her lead ahead of me, anxious to get to the next bit of the journey, the next smell. Sound of Woodpecker roots me to the spot-eager I am to see its whereabouts. Illusive by sight, I have to settle ion just hearing it drill for bugs. I find an egg shell, a Blackbird egg, I pick it up with the thought that the kids would love to see it and investigate which bird it came from in our bird book. However I have to carry this broken egg for the full 45 minute dog walk.
I wonder if there is an analogy in this.
It wasn't till I got in and sat to meditate and pray for the first time in a long while, that it came to me.
It was a message for me.
For a while now I have not been 'good' not had many (if any) good days. So low my mood, so fluent my tears of anguish at night, a wet pillow again for comfort.
My friend said she thought the reason was clear- I am settled, very settled. No move in sight, no change, I am staying put and adapting to a routine and an existence, not of fighting battles for you, living on the edge, on adrenalin, not knowing what the next day may bring in frantic attempts to merely exist. I now look to my future, often, this cannot be helped, it is a part of living somewhere and settling in. So somewhere in my subconscious I am allowing suppressed anguish and grief to surface. A life, our life, living it here without you, not as a family, but with the constant knowledge you are not that Alex, not the man I knew and loved, who supported me, cherished me, protected me.
None of this anymore.
And I am having to learn to live with this now.
The broken egg: I can walk around clutching at the empty broken shell, or I can look at the broken shell and see that a new life has broken free out of it and is now somewhere learning to fly.
I think the broken egg was for me, not the kids.
So, I am going to go through this, and try and not feel like an empty broken shell, but a chick that is learning to fly!
Posted by Manic Mum at 12:16