I knew it would be a while since my last confession.....
Er... post.
I didn't realise time would pass so quickly, though. Massive chunks of it, too. And yet - grief is in no rush. It appears when it wants to. Wherever it wants to. It constantly alternates. It whispers and shouts.
Not long before my beloved brother, Brian passed away, we were walking together in the mall.
"you know what, Babe? I think when we go, we'll all go quickly, close together..."
"What do you mean?", I clarified.
"When either mam, dad or I die, the others will follow very quickly. You won't have to look after us and run around for us anymore..."
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Brian was like that. He had the ability to "move" you. Good or bad. Happy or sad. Sickness or in health...
His predictions came to pass. He volunteered first. Then my dad. Then my other brother, Robin. And finally - my mam. All within three years.
They were dark years. Out of sorts years. A Pituitary Macroadenoma appeared too. Just to keep grief company.
But so did three more grandchildren - bringing sheer joy and love and well - good measure:
Arthur Henry
Dolly Mae
Millicent Ray.
I am reminded of my Mam's favourite of all time movie - The Sound of Music - where mother Abbess declares "where God closes a door, He opens a window". And my rendition of Maria's quote:
"A grandmother with seven grandchildren?... oh what's so fearsome about that...."
And so - I choose to delight in these treasured gifts.
My focus is refreshed.
My purpose is set.
