The world in which we live still seems to be a dark and terrible place, with some pools of light here and there. Lauren is one, Natasha the other. However the tone of life has changed. A sense of loss pervades everything. One can have a great holiday, but the fabric of the holiday, of one's memories, holds a feeling that things aren't right, that the joy one felt on holiday is compromised, corrupted, impure.
These days it feels to me that behind the light there's always darkness. That light is transient and darkness rules. For the first time in my life I am almost fearful of the coming winter, of the return to short days and long nights. During the last weeks I have been almost desperate to soak up as much sun as possible, sitting outside whenever the weather has allowed until the light has all but gone from the sky. Perhaps it's because I've been sleeping so badly for so long now, that I've spent so many nights awake wrestling with my worries, beset by memories, that I've become almost fearful of the night. I can almost sleep more restfully during the day, when the light keeps the demons away.
Looking back over the years I still have the sense that somewhere along the way I've somehow triggered fate's immune system. What other explanation can there be for all that we have suffered and lost? For the pain that we continue to experience? Random chance just does not seem to cover it. But then, if I turn down the self-indulgence for a bit and look around me, I see so many friends also struggling with insurmountable problems. A good friend in France with an undiagnosed and yet extremely debilitating disease. A young acquaintance with ALS. People struggling with their work in the most difficult times. What's happened to the world? When did it become so hostile?
A long time ago, I wrote on this blog that I felt that I'd slipped through into a parallel and much nastier dimension, that this 'slip' happened on a flight back from India in October 2009. Now, almost four years later, I still have exactly the same feeling. Sure, it's probably just a perception, but it really doesn't feel like it. Looking back it feels like a line in my life, a before-and-after moment. Before: a largely happy family, carrying its own cross, sure. But a cross that was no bigger and no smaller than anyone else's and that was in proportion to, in balance with the joys of life. Smiles that come naturally. A kind of happiness that's so implicit, no-one knows its there. After: a terrible and ultimately fatal battle to save the life of a deeply loved and dear child. A family scarred by loss, relationships strained to breaking point. Gloom and depression. A life into which one must pour energy just to get through the day. Happiness a transient moment that can no longer be assumed.
As I write this, I'm censoring the worst of my thoughts because what I've written already seems incredibly self-indulgent and down right bloody miserable. By now I guess that anyone reading this will be on the way to checking out. So, I'll close this line of rambling by saying that in the gloom of the night, at 3am when the demons are out and howling around my head, it all seems to me to be much worse than this.
Instead, I'll attempt to turn it around and look at the positive things. Firstly, we're all still here and, battered and bruised as they may be, relationships are still intact. Secondly, we're still surrounded by lovely people, friends and family, who care. It's a shame that it's not normal to go around letting your friends know how deeply you care for them and appreciate the support you get from them. I still see in my mind's eye our friends streaming into the house after Kay died and receiving deep, deep hugs from people who I didn't know could hug! Sometimes I wish that we treated each other like that everyday. What else? I don't know. Difficult day to be thinking about the positive.
I still have the feeling that I'm connected to Kay, behind and above my right ear. It still feels as if Kay's got her hand pressed lightly onto my head. But I don't have as much sense of her presence as before. She feels more distant to me - which generates a horrible feeling of desperation in my heart when I think about it. I still talk to her in my head. Practically every day, when I look at her picture on the wall and kiss her goodnight or good morning, I plead with her to help me, to lend me the strength to get through the day, to face a life that has had so much ripped out of it and that seems so compromised.
Unfortunately I don't think she can help me. I certainly don't have the sense that for all my entreating with her, that my fate has changed in anyway. I guess that the rules of her world are that we mortals have to get on with our own fate. To be honest, sometimes I feel a bit angry with her that she doesn't seem to be helping. Stupid feeling, I know. But I'm doing my utter best on all fronts and even a little bit of luck here and there would help enormously, even if it was just a mental boost.
I guess it's time to wrap up here. Time to get on my bike, get out in the sun and see if I can find Kay somewhere on the way - as happened after she died. I long to curl up in her arms, I long for someone to take away the burdens I carry, even if it's just for a little while, just long enough for me to get some deep, restful sleep.
I'm so very, very tired.
