To all my friends,
These past few months have been spent working on a variety of bits and pieces, trying to finish off a book I began almost three years ago entitled ‘being sad, ain’t bad’, plus finalising the aforementioned books of reflections on my various treks in China, Arctic and the Rockies, and the associated training diaries.
In the process I’ve been reading back posts I made a year ago, specifically around the time of the Arctic trek – and I’m unquestionably conscious of the fact that I am since, fundamentally changed. I am not as subject to the extremities of emotion that grief inflicted. I do not grieve any less today than I did then, but the explicit effects do not cripple me the way they did.
I have to be grateful for that latitude….mighty small mercies ….
Another thing that strikes me though is the language I employed – I was clearly searching for words and phrases, suitably imbued to properly convey what I was feeling. It reads now as overtly melodramatic …… and yet, I know it was true at the time. I was ‘out there’ …in a place where language basically, fails, where I could not source suitable vocabulary or make any statement accurate enough to properly describe the magnitude of the circumstance, without the inevitable consequence: melodrama ….for how does one describe the indescribable, the unbearable, the untenability of the loss of ones child, without resort to the dramatic? It’s hardly a slight affair ……
Today I feel myself more centred, and more able to distinguish ‘me’, in my place, with, of all things, a viable future. A year ago I couldn’t …I was holding on to a ‘me’ from my past. perversely somewhat because of an inability to fully embrace ‘future’. ‘Future’ was only an idea I could understand as an academic proposition – but now I can feel it, with cognition, that future properly and rightfully as a product of this most recent past.
I will never be the me of old; but I am genuinely accepting the me of today….which makes for a more positive future.
Melodramatic?
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Perhaps …… but as oft re-iterated, it’s no less true ….
In the meantime, I’m incredibly grateful for my efforts to write when I did. I have a record of how I felt, but more so, I have a measure of myself. I can look back and see how far I’ve travelled, which helps to look forward, I assume to the day when I can read all of this back and be able to say with authority: not me, any longer.
That will be the day I stop writing …… because on that day, I shall have exhausted both the need to write, and matter or circumstance about which to write. Perhaps ….
Either way, I suspect that day is some ways off…….. and there shall be, between now and then, a record of this future pursuit, which I don’t doubt shall continue to serve as an invaluable commodity, as method of measuring the ever greater distances travelled. Normal tools of measurement don’t really apply any more, (something I’ve been thinking about but will keep for another post) – but distance has been covered, without doubt; I hold an authoritative record, and I think it worth re-iterating what an invaluable resource this is, under the circumstances.
I could easily imagine having not moved an inch, and that simply is not so …….
Song for tomorrow : ‘A New Day Yesterday’ by Jethro Tull
Love to all,
Mx