Ponderings on grief

I have been musing wordlessly on this for several weeks, mulling over Stan's untimely death and all it means to those who love him, wanting to express, to clarify, to organise my cluttered thoughts. Grief has been likened to a tangled ball of wool, and so it is. These are just a few of those untangled thoughts. The rest, leaden, stay deep within my heart. For now.

This, sometimes, is how I feel. When I remember. When an email arrives from Tami. When I see references to Central Asia; or Colorado; or Kenya; or ....just anything. Anything can remind me.

The shock of Stan’s sudden passing has stayed with me and, sometimes or so it seems, almost intensified. I find myself more teary, more upset and more unable to talk about it. This morning, in church, I was in pieces afterwards. We sang an old hymn, reminding me of an incident with Stan and Tami in Africa Gospel Church we attended together all those years ago. Sharing a hymn book, I saw Tami smile at Stan – and of course he smiled back, with that wonderful kind grin he had – as they sang together. Now they can do that no longer.

And I just wonder how Tami is feeling. Unimaginable: for I must feel only a fraction of the grief. Surely she must wish to be with him.

The world was a better place with Stan Brown in it. Fortunate is heaven, now, to have him. His body may have entered the decay process, but his soul continues on forever. I regret there were not, in latter years, enough shared moments. Life. moves on. until life ends. Gladly, for us, that is not the end of The Story.

Yet in the here and now, we carry grief still within us. While we strive to live in the present moment, mindfully focusing on what just IS, not what was or will be, the past informs the present. What has happened, or not happened, changes us. The present influences the future. The grief remains.

So, for now: just don’t ask me how I am. I may not be able to choke out a reply. Because this, sometimes, is how I feel. Even when I do not remember. This grief is just...in me.

April advances...

Because of Covid-19 and all the ramifications, implications and consequent connotations associated with it, April began with uncertainty and a certain degree of unhappiness and dis-ease. As Jonny and Adele adjusted to their stay in Guernsey - hindered by the mandatory fourteen day confinement to house and garden of self-isolation - there were many factors all shouting for their position in all our hearts.

I can't say which was most prominent. Concerns varied, not just from day to day but sometimes from hour to hour. Feelings of constraint; unknowns about the future, both immediate and further off; difficulties in creating online lessons. Too many 'topics' within those categories to even begin listing. Perhaps one day. The conversations of 'not', 'probably not' and 'maybe not' occur in my head as I am gardening. too much to verbalise in concrete words, remaining as fleeting thoughts which permeated my entire being.

And, of course, the uncertainty and unknown changes constantly.

Stressful.

And yet. And yet: there were many, many joys. The comfort and delight in being together as family. Frequent photos from or chats with Cat, Cara and Andy. The beautiful  house and garden we are privileged to share. Escape on cliff path walks or cycle rides through the lanes. The satisfaction of being involved in gardening, tidying up, catching up on long-neglected projects. Creativity in creating, whether it be online lessons, writing, drawing or painting. Even a little crochet project, hats for Cara and her 'bubba' doll. And, of course, online meetings and chats with colleagues and friends, keeping connected.

I was drawn to Twitter and the BBC for information, to instagram and facebook for encouragement. (One of the many positives is the immense humour of funny cartoons and stories and the creative inspiration of many around the world as they deal with the fallout of the virus.)

Above all else, there was time to listen: to wisdom online; to praise and worship music; to the goldfinches singing at breakfast, the thrush at lunch, the blackbird giving his heart in the evening. Buzzards called overhead while gulls shriekeded as they swoop and dived around the cliffs. A kestrel hovered.

At the beginning of the month there was time to stop and stare, to pause and pen a few words, to reflect and respond. We advanced, one day at a time...

Easter arrived, Holy Week a reflective, quiet time. These days were for filling my time, as much as I could, with praise and worship and wise words. Easter Sunday up for sunrise overlooking the cliffs with #lectio365. Watched Alive church from NZ online; then HTB Easter service: and then our own church's short recorded service. Emmaus Rd was up on my screen but didn't get round to it - hopefully, recorded. Moving on to Louie Giglio at Passion City Atlanta today and Spring Harvest. The world seemed too strange to feel at ease with 'normal' activities...

April accelerated. Before I knew it, we were at the end of the month. The latter two weeks had been all-consumed with online teaching. There was room for little else in the day, save for preparing and eating meals and trying to manage exercise. Work days were sometimes 12 hours long...

Yet we managed. Slowly, the software became more familiar; the demands of children and parents less, as they settled into the new regime; and my mind became more focused as the curriculum once more came alive with the new term. There were many encouraging emails; satisfying conversations, both in chat and in real-life calls; and light moments. As a team, we worked together, helping and supporting one another.

There were still sociable moments: WhatsApp calls and chats, tea with dear Nicky Over the Hedge, bumping into friends as we went on cycle rides or the rare shopping errand.

We settled into this New Normal which, for us having lived (or, in J and A's case, are living) in Africa, is not so different where social opportunities are far and few between. We enjoyed the time all together - a gift; skyped frequently with Cara, who now asks to speak to her 'Yaya' and the 'derg' - her grandmother and the dog; and rejoiced in spring coming and every piece of good news around Covid-19.

Because, when all is said and done, there is much good news in our world.