I’ve been reading posts lately as regards holidays, and how, or rather, how not to survive them (assuming ‘survive’ is not too strong a word….under the circumstances I think not).
I can recall, now, from what seems like a lifetime ago, a feeling that I would never again be able to ‘go on holiday’. The idea of ‘holiday’ was a total anathema, undeserved, unfruitful, untenable and unwarranted. I’d consigned ‘holiday’ to my past – and buried the whole idea, along with all memories of holidays past (curiously, of mine, rather than of those spent with Christopher. Thinking of my past holidays somehow provoked a profound and incisive sadness; this could be linked obviously to the regret that Christopher would never again enjoy such wonderful occasions, but there was something else, guilt perhaps: that I had had my share, and that he wouldn’t have his….
This sadness persists…..).
Holidays then, and especially holidays in celebration of one thing or another, Christmas, Easter, those holidays that carry with them all the associated expectations of celebration, loudly decorated in ritual and meaning …these occasions were consigned to the ‘not for me’ bin, (de)classified as simply periods of time that I had to ‘get through’, to smile and act accordingly, to dutifully perform until such time as I could resume ………..
They were however all subject to the ‘fuck it’ rule, to do just that, to engage rather than totally avoid – and as such, rewards are becoming evident….
Easter has just passed, the fourth without Christopher – and not long after the fourth Christmas – and on both occasions I’ve rested (up to a point), I’ve smiled and been able to delight in the rituals, to share with others the seasonal recognition, savour the tastes and sounds without resort to pretence or the erecting of emotional defences. I can’t say it’s been as entirely fulfilling nor relaxing as it’s been in the past: there’s still no presents for Christopher, no Easter egg or silly gift, no card, no anecdote nor no new memory made – and that is far from being ok. But neither has it all been reductive …… these holidays have added again to life, not stolen.
That additive value is not of course the same as it was – if these occasions were metaphorically perceived as harvested fields, the yield is neither replicated nor of equivalent abundance.
But they yield none the less….there is produce, and I believe that this is so, largely because of the attitude to the soil. If the fertile earth is ruined, whether contaminated or flooded or dried to dust, that being nature’s law, what point is there in raging at the injustice? It serves no purpose to continually scratch in the dirt looking for vestiges of the growth that once blossomed there. I’d rather treasure the memory of the previous harvests and meantime, get busy tilling what soil there is, sourcing seeds, digging channels for irrigation and keep praying for rain (hardly necessary here on the West coast of Scotland) or sunshine.
It’s all part of an inbred refusal to indulge the loss; I see no point nor purpose in giving it more weight than it deserves – for if I do, I diminish the potential for future yield.
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Summer holidays are now booked, and I’m looking forward to going on them, I truly am; I’m not saying this to make it so….
I couldn’t have believed that this would have been possible a couple of years ago – but I’m getting used to the associated feelings of guilt and distance and anxiety and sadness, they are becoming allies rather than opponents; as such, they are losing their power to consume, and to devour the yield – rather they are becoming significantly more aligned with the fresh furrows being created….
Song for the week: ‘Living in the Past’ by Jethro Tull
Love to all,
Mx