Saturday, 3 December 2011

Hanging on by a thread

Well after writing something hopeful on Thursday morning I kind of crashed again yesterday.

On Thursday afternoon I went to the first funeral since Andrew’s last year.  I generally make it a policy not to name people on my blog but I’m going to make an exception with Vic.  He was a husband, father of four, grandfather and great grandfather and also a great friend to many.

He died at the age of 83 and had been ill for several years steadily deteriorating in the last few months.   Vic was a gifted speaker and leader in the church as well as holding down a full time job in the probation service.  I will always remember his sparkling eyes and ready wit.  Those sparkling eyes remained even when his speech deserted him, it was through his eyes he communicated.  I saw him a few days after Andrew died and Vic’s blue eyes held so much compassion; he didn’t need words to express his heartfelt sympathy.

His funeral was held in one of the local Methodist churches and the last time I had been to a service there it was Andrew’s dad’s funeral, Vic was leading it! 

It’s no wonder so many emotions were churned up as I embraced another widow and keenly knew her pain.

Maybe this post should be back in unravelling-edges but today I wanted to revisit my Goldilocks poem which I wrote a year ago. 
Sometimes my grief seems so much more painful now.  Yesterday I was aware of its black tentacles clasping me tight, tears came welling up and were squeezed out.  I felt suffocated, debilitated and overwhelmingly depressed.

I thought turning the calendar over to December would help, just as earlier in the year I thought a much needed holiday would be the answer.  The truth is I will never completely recover from this and I didn’t believe that a year ago, even six months ago. I thought one day I will get over this tragedy.  Now I know I just have to learn to live with it.

However much I want to write about the gloom and doom, the words were running through my head all day yesterday, there is always a bright spark.  Writing really does bring out the best of me.  In the end I guess it matters very little who reads this it’s given me an amazing focus and helps far more than the anti-depressants.

This morning’s hope came as I was driving oldest son to tennis.  There appeared to be a smudge in the sky, almost like the vapour trail from an aeroplane but the line was too curved and came straight up from the ground.  Not the usual trajectory for an aircraft.

As I stared it became clearer.  It was a faint rainbow almost imperceptible against the bright blue sky.  There were so few raindrops on the windscreen it didn’t even warrant the wipers going on.

I turned the corner and the arc became brighter, sweeping across the entire sky.  The watery colours getting brighter.

I’ve written about rainbows before so many times and they never cease to amaze me and give me hope.   

Sometimes there is nothing new to write about you just have to hold on to what you know is true and what you know has been there all along.

That little spark of hope, that thin thread of truth, the joy of a smile and glint of understanding in someone’s eye.

I hope you find yours today.  Why not tell me about it and we can hold on to it together…

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