Dry

The whole town centre under water Christmas night into Boxing Day. The rain stopped, the waters receded, the clean-up begins. Up here on the tops we are dry and grateful. How many times can our little town recover from this onslaught?

Accidental

Is there a scream that
could slip sideways from my mouth
like a silent bird?

A Loss Again

My Aunt T died on Sunday afternoon, just sat down on her sofa, complained of feeling breathless, and went. Pretty good way to go, without pain or distress. She's been growing frail, and had some health issues, but nothing which exactly predicted this, now. But she has not recovered from my uncle's death sixteen months ago and after 65 years of happy marriage, I don't think she ever would have. As well as being my uncle's wife all those years, she was my Mum's best friend for even longer - since they were eight years old. It was because of their friendship that Aunt T and Uncle R met, fell in love very young, and never looked at anyone else. Both adored my Mum, and she them, but I think there was always a deep, complicated, and unspoken sense of loss for her. Well, it somehow doesn't feel surprising all three have died within sixteen months of each other. We toasted all three in malt whisky on Monday evening, when we had just heard the news. The week after next we'll be back at the same beautiful village church in Buckinghamshire for the third funeral.

So, five deaths in two years. If possible, I'd like some respite now please. But I have no idea who is in charge of these things. It is all feeling too much right now what with the job disappointment, the loss of a friend, the culmination of complex processes in relation to my mother's estate, with papers to be signed before both my siblings head for far away places for several weeks, and now this final loss of my dear aunt, and with her of an era.

Lost

I have lost a friend. Painfully. Strangely. Something got a bit messy between us, and I expressed concern and have now been shut out entirely, like a cold steel shutter coming down in front of a shop, with that sharp rattle and crash, then locked into place. Of course that is a very short version of a very long story, but I am feeling the loss and the rejection today. It's not the fact that something could go wrong in a friendship that hurts, it's her total lack of interest, curiosity or concern to hear or try to understand my point of view, my feelings. The apparent loss of any feeling about it, about me.

Fear Of Falling

Snow. Ice. Eye watering wind. Dazzling low sunlight. The fear of falling. The joy of woolly hats, mittens, cowls and snoods! Five weeks until Christmas. Flowers in a vase on the table, given to me by my colleagues when we parted on Wednesday, and a box of chocolates, only one or two remaining now. Leaving there, having handed over my keys, and collected the toys and figures that were mine - witch, wizard and dragon, incredible hulk, and lots of animals, wooden buildings and superheroes, I suddenly did not belong. Sitting drinking tea with four colleagues, I felt part of something, included. Walking across the road and getting into my car, driving home and bringing inside the flowers, chocolates, the figures, and all the shopping I'd bought on the way, I was no longer included, no longer belonged. Such an abrupt transition. I fell into the dark for a while.

There is a very small girl in me who is unable to hold the relativity of these kinds of changes and transitions, who interprets endings as 'the end' and a real threat to her well-being and ongoing sense of coherent self. She is frightened, she panics and despairs. It's my job to help her with that. I'm not saying all the pain and loss are in the past - there is present pain, loss and disappointment as well as anger and confusion about this job. But my competent adult self knows she can manage these, and that life will always bring another day, another change in the light, another beginning, another job. Until the final change, of course, and then there will always be someone else whose lot is to live through the endless change that is human existence.

Out

So, a job interview on Thursday, and on Friday the news I hadn't got it. Deflating after working with the team one day a week for the last four months. On the other hand this job was not truly the greatest fit for my skills and style. But I liked my manager, the building, the team, and the short commute. Struggling in the aftermath with a feeling of falling back into the void - what now? Now not even the one day a week. It's been / being such a trudge back into capacity, into resilience and confidence after the blows of the last 23 months. Yes, in a month it will be two years since G was murdered. Incredible. I have stopped carrying the two stones she gave me everywhere every day (just some days, some places). Driving to the interview on Thursday, I heard her whisper 'you can do this P'. And I did, but someone else pipped me to the post, and this is life...

I fall so easily into despair, and this is what we were talking about when she vanished. Doom, catastrophe and hopelessness. And yet, only a couple of weeks ago I had rediscovered some joy in living, and the other day I actually did some writing! Leave it with me, I'll find my way out of the despair...

Don't Breathe Out