Escape
Over the last few days and weeks, I’ve juggled projects, walked in the woods with the woofers; had designs on moving things around a little at home for a bit of a refresh and tried to focus on the blessings I feel I have been given in my life.
However, I’ve found myself falling apart intermittently and in need of escape; whether that is to be found in my mind through meditation (though it’s hard to do that with a busy home) or physically wandering round the woods in the local area, rambling into a dictaphone about the daily impromptu emotions and inability or attempt at navigating the meandering path of grief.
Inevitably, my love for France and love for travel somewhere in the mists of time, have reappeared in my third eye vision. It might be the impact of lockdown on top of grief that has made me contemplate organising an Irish passport or the slow seeping in of loneliness that is taking hold in this situation, but that’s not usually an issue. I have grown used to and rather fond of solitude since losing Ben, but I recognise that although it might be useful for writing, it might not be quite so good for my mental health.
Life is so strange now, with the lockdown and I’m sure there are many that feel the same, but for a bereaved parent, the silence and separation from a child, let alone friends and family, becomes a very easy, simple option and safe place to reside. Recently, I heard the words ‘at least …’ in a sentence pertaining to the fact that I ‘still had my daughters,’ even though I had gone through the unimaginable moment of watching my son take his last breath in front of me. Somehow, I should be grateful. Well, of course, I love my daughters. However, I have three children. I’m a mum of three and sometimes, the idea of being out at all and bumping into people who have that attitude, albeit supposedly well meaning, is something I’d rather avoid.
The idea of the sea and the sand and the sun appeals greatly to me at the moment, as it affects my mood, lifts my spirits greatly and is so much better for me regarding my Raynaud’s disease!
I’m encouraged by seeing other bereaved parents finding the courage to move from the home they lived in as a full physical family. I don’t come to this viewpoint without careful consideration. I know that wherever I go physically, emotionally or spiritually, grief will be right there. Like a shadow, a friend, a constant reminder of loss and love. There’s no escaping grief. I realise that that is something that is not possible, nor do I wish it to be.
I hope for an emotional break and a better life for my children. The idea of spending more time outdoors in a warmer climate is something that I have longed for for many a year, so to me, it’s nothing new. The circumstances I find myself thinking about it all are. I imagined one day, the five of us would be living abroad somewhere and enjoying a new culture, learning new languages, living a life of value and compassion - not that we don’t here, but it’s hard with the weather and right now, with the lockdown.
It might be because of the nostalgic sense I have from being taken out of school for a short time to be educated in Spain. I was only thirteen or so at the time, but the excitement and apprehension surrounding starting at a new school was intense! I remember my mother making packed lunches to the sound of George Benson playing on the radio and getting into the car, driving up to Calpe Collegio and being thrust into a new environment, full of children and teachers of all nationalities. It felt so wonderful to experience a new culture, learn a new language and be in a school that praised your work, praised kindness and for the first time in my life, I really felt ‘seen.’
What I also realised, in coming back to the UK, was how far ahead they were in the curriculum and how slow and yet pressured being in the UK system was. I remember feeling so deflated at coming back home, although I loved seeing my friends, of course, but they had no reference point for understanding my experience. So I quickly stopped talking about it all, having made some life long friends, who I’m blessed to still be in touch with, even at the ripe old age of 48 years!
Living abroad at that time taught me that anything is possible and that actually it didn’t matter to anyone else really about stepping out of the norm, it only mattered to me. I met so many wonderful people in that few months and learned so much about the person I was to become; that experience stays with me and makes me smile whenever I think back to those days. We were able to play volleyball and try rugby and football, something that was not permitted in my UK school for girls; and it felt very exciting! I felt this sense of liberation at being able to do artwork, which was praised, when the whole class in my then school year in the UK latterly ended up being left ungraded for their artwork in our GCSEs. I was gutted at that point, as I had been interested in heading to art school. It wasn’t to be and so I stopped drawing and lost my love of it for many years.
In my mid twenties, I was in a relationship which took me to Japan and there, I met more wonderful people from all walks of life and found myself involved with the Tokyo International Players. This gave me a new lease of fun and experience in my life, which I’m forever grateful for. I also worked at the Global Warming Conference in Kyoto as a temp PA, all experience that I would never have enjoyed had I not been open to the opportunities that living in Japan afforded me.
Living abroad makes you re-evaluate your own values, it makes you take note; learn, become independent and show more compassion. You are pushed into situations and given opportunities which unnerve you, knock you off balance and then help you to stand taller, be more open, more aware and perhaps it might even give you a sense of being able to find your faith in who you really are. You only get this life once … although I might choose to retract that statement, as my belief is different!
I think about these experiences and I think about what it might be that I feel I lack or is lacking in my life. I am so blessed to be a mum of three, to live in a secure home with a wonderful husband, two daughters and one son up striding the stars. I am grateful for all I have and all I’ve been given and perhaps for me, the feeling of lack re-emerges like karma, not from the loss of my son or from anything I don’t have, but simply as a lesson (karma); the feeling of knowing all I can do and all I want to do. I want to serve. I want to reconnect with compassion, with healing, with people from all walks of life, all cultures and write, write, write. I want to impact people through my writing in a really positive way and to support my fellow human beings. I do want the best for my children and I guess my tiny horizons were expanded once and after losing Ben, it’s shown me that there is nothing to fear and I open my life to opportunity and all the good it will bring.
Grief shakes the foundations of all you thought was real and turns it upside down. It’s like the greatest spiritual awakening and feeling that life is for living. Really living. Feeling everything, absorbing it all, good and bad. Wishing for more and wishing to do more; give more.
In the end, it isn’t about escape. I wonder if it’s about being found; finding out who you are and where you want to be. It might be the other side of the world to some, but perhaps it’s home to you.
Angel wings … flight