‘The past is somewhere we can walk with our memories. Never with our footsteps..
This week has been rather strange and unsettling.
I have spent a lot of time over the last ten days sitting at my Father’s bedside as he has struggled with ill health. For most of us, this sort of situation fills us with all sorts of emotions and fears. To see a loved one suffering, especially someone who has been your parent, the one you have looked up to and who, previously was the one to look after you, is hard. Being in a hospital environment for any length of time soon reminds us that life is very tenuous and can change in the blink of an eye. Emerging from a particularly long visit it is hard to readjust to the outside world and it is strange seeing people going about their everyday lives.
It is interesting that last weekend I had a message out of the blue from an old school friend who wanted to contact on Facebook – a new group had been set up for those of us who had attended the school in Somerset back in the late 60’s. Once we had connected we started catching up on news, and messages were going to and fro for an hour or so. This set up a chain of events and more and more old friends joined in with new messages. As with any of these situations, there was news of how well some people had done, how some had drifted away and some had sadly died. Photos were posted and comments made about how well we had aged , (or not, as the case may be!) It was all interesting stuff and good to reconnect with people you hadn’t thought about for years, but it is very strange when one feels the years roll back and you revert back to being a teenager for a while in your mind. This for me, set me thinking about life and the passing of time. How can it be that so many years have passed and so much has happened along the way? How has it happened almost in the blinking of an eye?
‘Alice: How long is forever?
White Rabbit : Sometimes, just one second.’
It is quite fitting in a way that these thoughts and memories from my past have occurred in the same week as my Father’s illness. It is almost as though the Universe is suggesting I look back a bit and perhaps take some comfort from earlier times. But does our personal history determine what happens in our lives now I wonder? I guess we are the writers of our own stories and the directors of our own lives. If we live in the past too much we are replaying the same old scenarios in our minds when we need to move forward from the energy of past events and into the now. Whatever our history, whatever mistakes or failure we have experienced, we are different people now but the good memories hopefully stay forever.
My blog is short and reflective this week – but as I write I am thinking about the importance of enjoying the smaller things in life, for they are often the most important – small everyday kindnesses, catching up with family and telling them you love them, not worrying about trivia and also not worrying about the big, worldwide situations you can’t change, no matter how much you want to.
I’d like to think about continuity too. I can take comfort from the contacts from the past because those long lost friends were responsible for making me the person I am now, even if in a small way. And, most importantly, when I look at my Father’s frail hands as he clasps mine, I feel the connection to my childhood days, and the times he lifted me with those same hands, high into the air to jump the waves on Polzeath beach.
‘But somewhere, running through your veins, The fragment of past life remains, And in future children, one day you’ll see, That somewhere, there’s a trace of me.’