#love – Relay shun ships

December….

“How did it get so late, so soon”? Dr. Seuss

It’s almost upon us….December. Never mind that very special person with a beard and red suit, who comes bearing gifts and leaves them under the tree for all the ‘good’ children, it is also almost the end of another year!

So what did you do this year? Was it hectic, was it fulfilled, was it the same as any other year? Were you in the doldrums, did you realise your dreams, edge closer to your dreams, change direction? Did you endure it with sadness and lose someone significant? Questions, questions, questions!

My year began with deciding to go house hunting in the sun for a holiday home. Having lost both parents in the previous two years, one after the other, my brothers and I shared the proceeds from the sale of their house, our family home. It was a difficult time, but we had to be practical.

I am usually so bad with money, in one hand and out the other, like sand falling hurriedly through my fingers. I really didn’t want to squander what my parents had worked so hard for, and so, the search for a holiday home in the sun began.

By April I had picked up the keys to my place in the sun in Spain and have managed to go there 4 or 5 times since then. For that I have been very grateful (especially to my boss, who has let me have flexi time at work) and of course to my parents, whom I think they would approve of how I spent ‘their money’.

I managed to slip and bash my head whilst in Spain, which required 4 staples and a night in hospital. Thank God no lasting damage…. it could have been a lot worse! It was also a bit of a wake up call.

I visited there with my brother on one occasion and my grandchildren on another. I also visited with one of my friends. I was happy to share this new ‘home’ with them and let them imagine me there should I ever leave Ireland.

Each time I went to Spain I wanted to stay longer and longer and longer. So much so that now, as this year is drawing to a close, I have put my house up for sale, with a view to going to my place in the sun and then deciding, ‘what next’.

Travel has always been on my bucket list. I want to go to places I have never been, if only for a short time, few weeks, few months, longer if possible. Travel without worrying about having to go to work. To just do what I can do with the means that I have.

Impulsive by nature and not one for sitting still for too long I think, ‘what’s the worst that can happen’? With each year rolling quicker and quicker into the next, losing loved ones along the way, good friends and family, it is a stark reminder of how quickly time flies and how precious life is.

I also turned 60 this year so realise there is a lot less time ahead of me that what has gone before. With that in mind I want to take the bull by the horns and try something new….. again.

Is that selfish, is it reckless, is it foolish or is it brave. Maybe it is all of the above! I can only live my life. No one can live it for me, so on that basis, I should just bite the bullet and give it a go…… once my house here actually sells that is!

However, there is a caveat to that. I change my mind like the weather. I drive myself nuts with all my different ideas and plans, but at least, I have ideas and plans and that is what matters isn’t it? To keep thinking, hoping, dreaming, planning and then ‘doing. If we don’t try, nothing changes right?

I moved to this current house 4 years ago. A lovely house in a lovely part of the country. During that 4 years I have grieved 3 very significant people. Started a new job where I currently still work and couldn’t ask for a nicer boss who also became my very good friend. Met several really nice people in my neighbourhood and joined two writing groups where we meet once a week.

I have been welcomed here and made to feel ‘part of the tribe’. People I would never have met, if I hadn’t made the move. I wonder then, who and what is waiting for me in my next move? That is what fills me with excitement and a strong sense of curiosity.

In the words of Anais nin “life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage”

So, here’s to another, almost, end of a year and hopefully an exciting new year ahead with new adventures!

Letter writing

Can you remember the last time you wrote or received a letter, hand written. Chose the paper, licked the envelope and stamp and popped it in the post box? if not, perhaps its time to take up the importance of letter writing again.

I remember the anticipation and excitement when the post man would walk up the drive and I hoped and wondered if any of the letters were for me.

When I was 14, there was no such thing as social media. There was letter writing and a phone plugged into the wall, or in a phone box in the village, if you needed to call anyone.

This was our means of communication back in my youth of the 70’s.

Nowadays, we have txt, email, and all platforms of social media to communicate.

Today I ran our session at a weekly writing group I attend. The theme I used was the importance of letter writing.

It is said that letter writing originated, according to the ancient historian Hellanicus, with Atossa, the Queen of Persia. She was around 50 years old when she wrote the first letter around 500 BC. She was a woman of great influence, skilled and learned and people wanted to emulate her and become literate. She created this genre of communication which eventually formed the basis the postal service as we know it today (selectabase.co.uk).

So why, you might ask, do I think it is important? Well, it isn’t just a catalogue of events that are happening. It is a record, a hand written record, of time, place, thoughts, feelings and events. Even the handwriting itself, is a source of comfort and conversation, unlike txt.

It is personal, recognisable and often a source of joy to receive a letter, through the post, from a loved one, a friend, a partner or family member and long after the txt or email has been deleted or left in the in box, the hand written letter is a tangible document, that can be kept and stored.

I have letters that are 45 years old from friends of my youth. They are to me like treasure. Two of the writers of these letters are no longer with us, both passed young, so the letters are priceless. I run my finger over the ink. They bring me back to a time in my youth and they make me laugh. They are a source of comfort when I feel sad, they are evidence of all the antics that went on and a portrait of innocence of teenage girls. I am right back there, at that time, and I love that.

What strikes me though is nothing changes. The same trials and tribulations and angst we felt as teenagers, is felt by teenagers today.

I have a couple of books which I referenced in the group. One was ‘Love Letters of the Great War’. What was surprising about some of the letters contained in that book, was the positivity written. One talked of the lovely sunrise, the smell of lavender, the dew on the leaves shining like diamonds. I thought how sweet to write such positive things, during such a terrible event, so that his wife could feel comfort. What a treasure, that hand written letter must have meant to her.

The other book I referenced was ’84 Charing Cross Road’. This book, set from 1949, contains all the letters from Helene Hanff, a writer in New York to Frank Doel bookseller of Marks and Co Antiquarian book shop in London. The friendship which developed between the two and other staff members is fabulous. So much so that there were exchanges of Christmas packages, birthday gifts and even food parcels, due to food shortages in Britain after the war.

Both are books I would recommend. They are wholesome and heartwarming and bring us to a place and time, that is right at the heart of the writers.

I think I like poetry because it too is often quite like writing a letter. It expresses thoughts and feelings especially to loved ones. Patrick Kavanagh’s ‘In memory of my mother’, to me is like a love letter to her, it is so poignant, so beautiful and something I can relate to, having lost my own mother last year.

Finally, another poem, described as the greatest poem composed in either Ireland or Britain by Eibhlin Dubh Ni Chonaill. She wrote a lamant about her beloved husband, Airt Ui Laoghaire, who was killed. The year was 1773. The poem is known as a caoineadh (keena) a keen, a lamant for Art O’Laoghaire.

https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=1712381318811033

This keen, this lament has been the inspiration of the the Book ‘A ghost in the throat‘ by Doireann Ni Ghriofa. A book that spans time and distance, yet, connects these two women in txt and became an influence in Doreann’s life.

Whether today, or tomorrow, write a letter, with your own hand, write it to a loved one, let them recognise your handwriting as is drops on the floor through the letterbox, let them delight in the news you wish to tell and let them keep this treasure, in a box, or bag, or book and let this be a way to future proof yourself in their life and beyond.

Love is a choice….. right?

Its easy to love when all is going smoothly. When expectation is met with desired result…but when things get rough, love can be tested and then love becomes a choice……

The answer to the old question…. what is love….?

Love is many a splendid thing…. Love is that first flutter in your belly when you see someone you like, whether you are 7 or 70.

Love is cradling your baby for the first time, not knowing, really, if you will do a good enough job at being it’s mother,/father, but you do your best anyway.

love is being so tired and sleep deprived that you still put your child’s needs before yours.

love is hating your child’s tantrums and behaviours, especially when they are teenagers, but still having their back and mopping up the mess.

Love is putting on your best dress and perfume, or best shirt and after shave and being on time and showing up for him/her.

Love is being so consumed with their wants and needs, you put yours on the back burner.

Love is allowing someone to say how they feel and not trying to negate or trivialize what they are saying.

love is putting yourself in their shoes.

love is patience, and patient.

love isn’t stagnant

love is holding yourself together, even when you are falling apart, and doing for others.

love is standing back, so someone more in need, can go first.

love is taking a minute to decide if your want/need can wait.

love is praying for loved ones and praying for strength to help you through difficult times.

love is letting go.

love is forgiveness.

love is a choice

love is learning to swallow down hurtful words and not allow it to penetrate.

love is picking yourself up, dusting yourself down and taking one step at a time.

Love is not always patient, not always kind and love is sometimes arrogant and rude and hurtful

because love comes in many disguises, depending of how safe love feels in the hands of the beholder and how wounded or lost the injured are

love endures, love lingers and love is not easily broken…….because love, is a choice…….

Love is both delightful and a curse, but love is love, and love is what drives our soul, our essence, our purpose.

When all else fail….. chose love.

Reminders….

We get through time, somehow, after loss. This too shall pass, they say, and the intensity and immediacy of it does fade, but the feeling of loss and grief stays and reminders are what keeps us going through each new day that we have without them in this world….. blessed to have known you….. for Jackie

“like a bird singing in the rain, let grateful memories survive in time of sorrow”
Robert Louis Stevenson

At some stage in our lives we all have to experience loss. Loss of a relationship, loss of money, material things, loss of a loved one. Many many years ago when I was courting, my now husband, I broke off our relationship. He was very upset and so was I at the time, but I just felt that the time wasn’t right. Someone said to him ‘better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’. He told me this when we got back together.

Throughout our lives we have many different types of relationships with family, friends, partners, teachers, work colleagues etc, each with varying depths and ties of commitment, love and connection. Sometimes it is easy to break the ties and other times it is very difficult, impossible even. Some ties will never be broken, whether the person is here or not. So we must count ourselves very lucky when we are able to say ‘Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all’. Loving some one and feeling love is just the most precious gift and one to treasure forever and be thankful for.

Having lost my dear friend one year ago today, I am thankful for the years we had together as friends, like sisters, thankful for the experiences we shared and the memories that linger on, to keep her alive. This post, is for her…….

Jackie………

The many times I reach for the phone, then realise

No, no now

As I take the milk carton from the fridge and in bold writing the ‘use by’ date

Is that specific date

A wasp as it weaves its way in my direction, like it’s on a mission

Reminds of you running and screaming down the isle of the bus to avoid it’s sting

When the person next to me orders a J D and Coke at the bar

When I see a Sainsbury’s bag, ad, Next, River Island or Karen Millen Label

All signs

A packet of Benson and Hedges, Marlboro Menthol, Vapes

Reminds me of players No.6 and us getting suspended from school for smoking on the bus

And having cigarettes on our person

Oh how we howled with laughter

Vaseline cream and cotton wool to take off your make up and moisturise

how you swore by it

Progressing to Lancôme, Miss Dior and any brand of lipstick, so long as the colour was right

Sunbeds, sun bathing and prickly heat

Strong tea, strong coffee and bacon ribs

Dundalk, Coventry, Nuneaton and South Carolina

Place names remain, all reminders of you

Every time I walk through my front door and your photo is there to greet me

Every pic or meme I post on Facebook, the absence of your like, emoji or comment

Reminds me of that empty space

Laughing, crying, celebrations and times of sadness

My mind transports to you

Every time I see two old ladies, talking, laughing, sitting together

My future longs for you

In the noise and the silence, every morning and the last thing at night

All reminders of you

The staghorn tree in rich rust red, standing prominent and tall

Planted in memory of you

Laughing eyes and a bright white smile

A plethora of ordinary things will continue to, thankfully,

remind me of you.

24/03/1965 – 23/09/2021

For my best friend, my sister from another mister, my heart and my thanks

Mutability [“The flower that smiles to-day”]

BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

The flower that smiles to-day

To-morrow dies;

All that we wish to stay

Tempts and then flies.

What is this world’s delight?

Lightning that mocks the night,

Brief even as bright.

Virtue, how frail it is!

Friendship how rare!

Love, how it sells poor bliss

For proud despair!

But we, though soon they fall,

Survive their joy, and all

Which ours we call.

Whilst skies are blue and bright,

Whilst flowers are gay,

Whilst eyes that change ere night

Make glad the day;

Whilst yet the calm hours creep,

Dream thou—and from thy sleep

Then wake to weep.

A thousand wishes

A wish along the way, is that you walk beside me every day....

Unliving

Death, of course, is part of life. When it comes to our door, it is very hard to navigate through the pain and loss, but grieving means they were loved, as were we.

When a flower, a tree or person dies it doesn’t do so, without leaving its mark, its stamp, its impact or its seed behind. It may be un-living, but it leaves something behind that keeps it alive.

Nine days ago, my father died. It was a sudden passing, unexpected. It has shaken us, his family and left us unsteady on our feet. I am still grieving the loss of my very dear friend, who passed, Seven months ago.

What I have come to know in this grief, is that I must go through this process, feel this pain, navigate a way forward through the fog and learn to live with the fact that I will not see them again.

What I also know, is that, even though I won’t see them again, does not mean that they are not with me or near me. I think about them both, every minute of the day. I talk about them both several times a day and I talk to them both, every day too.

My grief and pain for my dad is still very raw and I guess, I have had a trial run at grief, when I lost my friend, so I know what to expect.

I also know I have to be thankful, for the time that we had, grateful for the good times and blessed to know that I was loved by them and happy in the knowledge that I loved them both dearly.

It is never easy to lose a parent and even though my dad was 81, we still hoped for more time with him. There is never a good time to die, I guess. Having said that, I am glad he did get to 81, because so many people do not, including my friend.

Those of us left behind, are the seeds, the impact, the mark and we have been stamped by them, with their love and affection and it is that, which will carry us through the pain and gravity of the loss. We must hold on to the good times, remember them fondly and know that we were loved.

R.I.P Dad, til we meet again……

Eternity

Voices, noise, placed on hands

Staring ahead, nodding

Wetted cheeks, can’t stem the flow

The oak box raised on the

Shoulders of black suits

Slow uniformed steps, synchronised

And I am there, following

Disbelieving somehow, that the patriarch

No longer will walk beside me, hold me, comfort me

And as he is lowered into the dark deep hole

My heart breaks open

And his love, his spirit, his soul is stored deeper in it

And is locked in there

For eternity….

Full Bodied

Sometimes I still pinch myself that I made it through motherhood with everyone pretty much unscathed. I have raised my own and other people’s children, being a mother and foster mother and at times, it was the hardest job EVER, but the most rewarding, so now, it’s ‘me’ time and I am loving it!

et moi…. lolling around…living it up large!

Today I’m having a fat day, a lazy day

A day where I can loll around

In my dressing gown

I love having a fat day

It is full bodied, full of self- love and indulgence

It starts with a lay in bed, reading

Eating breakfast and not minding if the crumbs fall onto the sheets

After a while I nod off for another snooze

I awake again, put on my dressing gown and head downstairs

I have a cuppa and maybe a biscuit or two

And wrap my hands around the warmth of the cup and my dressing gown

Tightly around me

I read some more of my book, curled up on the sofa and put the fire on

Cosy in my living room, soaking up the fullness of just ‘being’…

Later I will turn on the TV and flick through the channels until something

Grabs my attention. I may watch it for an hour or two or for the rest

Of the day until it is time, to go to bed again

In between, I will head into the kitchen and eat and nibble and pick at

Whatever I choose to eat, whatever, takes my fancy

And I won’t feel one bit guilty

Why?

I won’t feel guilty because I have spent my days, working, fetching and carrying

Raising children, keeping house, putting other people first, putting myself to the back of the queue

Except for the occasional treat.

Mums, all over the world are on the marathon of motherhood and it is exhausting, exhilarating, heartfelt and heart breaking. We fight, we fix, we do. We just do. We get on with it and we get lost in it. The girl you were, that carefree girl, before motherhood, she is gone. She is hiding in the body of the mad woman working from morning ‘til night, full of sleep deprivation, spinning plates and trying to please EVERYONE and in the process there is no time or very very little time, for her to please herself.

So now, now that my nest is empty, 33 years later, of getting lost in motherhood, I can, without guilt or remorse, please myself and have a great big fat day to myself and enjoy it wrapped up in the warmth of my dressing gown, and in the knowledge, that the job I did of being mother, was a success. My Children are a success, they are wonderful human beings getting on in the world on their own journeys, full of their own adventures, and I couldn’t be happier for them….. or me!