If you’re looking for me, I the one reaching for the Vitamin D. Days last sun came, and this winter is rather trying. It’s post Christmas and the shiny lights don’t do it for me anymore – the mere thought of grey skies until whenever, sans any tan lines, leads to introspective everything. It’s ok. Perhaps we need this hibernation of body and soul to reflect, but also to plan.
Tonight I find myself alone, waiting for the impending marriage this weekend of the father of my children, who are all on that shore for the celebration. I am allowed the shadow on my soul.
A dear friend misses her husband, now gone 17 years ago and as she said, time only allows you to live a different kind of life, but the missing never goes away.
Watched the most depressing, and awful movie about two women who try to recapture their past but they are clearly as awful as the film for not adapting to the times.
My intuitive and gorgeous daughter kindly reminded me that all the stories I ever speak of are ones in the past. I am effectively a ‘When we’ and I reluctantly, but admittedly find myself doing this – which is totally unfair to them, and to myself.
Is it this Silver Time though? Have we reached the arc of experience only to find ourselves slipping life into the memories that were, plodding with life now rather than embracing and challenging her instead? Have we effectively lived our lives and now find ourselves living through others, being reactive rather than proactive? Why would this be?
Clearly, this generation have fumbled, been victorious, failed and achieved rather a lot in the our lifetimes – our book has chapters within, some great and some not so great, but do we continue to subject those we love, and ourselves to this memory trip and does that in turn become a defeatist forward failing? All around me I see Silver Streeters smiling only for grandchildren, wait for family to visit, get through the day and at every opportunity speak of the past as if it were our only point of reference – which is so sad. So, so sad. I honestly cannot think of a conversation with my friends that did not refer only to where and what the children are doing. Their days, and mine are governed by the expectation of others coming into theirs. How wonderful if I heard a friend saying they are beginning a new business, going scuba diving or taking a lover. Going to dye their hair blue, climb something (preferably the lover) and smash into 2018 without caution or regret.
Having said that, we are also warriors and captors of the past. Our hearts have soared and broken so many times. This may just be the time that we stop to really think about it. And we are allowed to. Sometimes we want to remind our children and friends that the good times did exist, that happiness was manifest, our egos took preference and love was physically and spiritually perfect. We are allowed to be ‘when we’s’ for our when we’s were amazing. Now our hearts break when children leave, relationships end and people die. It happens at this time. We downsize, miss our gardens, find exercise just a tad straining. We don’t run anymore. We drink pills, and wine and our eyesight fails us. Clothes don’t fit, menopause is a bitch and we slump, in every way. So we try to remind all, and ourselves that we were once the hectic, amazonian wonder women. Or are we still?
We are. Throw out all the ‘Get over it’ announcements. Don’t get over it, all of it, but don’t let it define you, as it has me for far too long. Change is scarier at this Silver Street time, the odds are stacked just a little more, but I for one am a long way from knitting and accepting it – needed to wallow and nurse the broken threads that held my life together, but in all honesty, even I am getting tired of the story. My friend is allowed to mourn forever, we all are, but only if it does not turn our hearts to ancient stone of memories and prevents us from finding new ones, our own ones.
Living in the past is beautiful, only if it spurs us on and doesn’t hold us trapped. Admitting to loss and pain is part of the healing. We have nurtured and fought for and I think part of the when we thing is also a new found anxiety of having to face being just you – no parents, no partner, no children, and some no more friends.
Tonight, in the midst of winter …
“In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.’ Camus
My friend, mourn, talk about the one you miss as much as you want.
I will talk about the past incessantly.
Don’t leave your heart in the past – she still gets a blood rush if you let her for the future.
Tomorrow we will kick some ass.