The waiting is the hardest bit
Discussion
I am very well. Thank you for asking. There is lots going on work wise and home wise and I feel slowly that life is beginning to step up a pace. I realise now that Jan, feb and march were life in a holding pattern. I was waiting for the spring to let her go on Skye. Of course I am sad and every night I hold her teddy close and kiss it good night as I kissed Lily good night. At times I am fearful - fearful that there are thinkgs I might forget. But I also understand that that in itself is the normal part of life and loss. I spoke to the lady in the cancer centre today, the one who helped us the most and she told me that the nurses speak of Lily regularly and ask for me regularly. I shall return with a box of doughnuts and other lovelies soon enough.
The more I think about it, the more I am coming to appreciate just how well a place Lily left me in. I shall be forever grateful to her for giving me the time and space to be myself and I am glad that I put Lily first in all of this journey. I don't have any guilt about any of this and I don't live a single day wishing 'if only'. Of course I miss Lily every day and I the missing part is a chasm of yearning deep down inside. But life does go on - I have much to do. I promised Lily that I would open our own centre, that I would take forward her pragmatism and dynamic approach to walzing this terrible disease and that is what I intend to do.
In my line of work it's very easy to create glib strap lines to 'sell' to people in the hope that your words catch their semtiment and resonate with them. A few years ago, Lily suggested that we use 'freedom of mind is your birthright - reclaim it'. It's an interesting combination of words, that some we have worked with have grasped the significance of immediately. I saw that in the process of dying Lily lived that belief and in doing so, she opened up something inside of me. People ask me if i'm angry, some say that I 'deserve to be angry', considering all that has happened. But I say to them that every moment of anger is a moment lost. Why be angry and flood your mind with negative thoughts and resentments about things that you can do little to change. So instead I smile and say to them no, I'm not angry, just very very proud of Lily and very much in love - and it is that love that neutralises the negativity I could feel. Lily has my deepest respect and admiration and her courage has been an inspiration to me. The very least I can do is take some of that and pass it on. So that is what I am doing, enjoying love and passing it on to those who want to share it. I celebrate life and love and i've learned to surf the tsunami. That is the thing that Lily could always do and it is the greatest gift she gave me - learning to surf life. It's a wonderful feeling.
The more I think about it, the more I am coming to appreciate just how well a place Lily left me in. I shall be forever grateful to her for giving me the time and space to be myself and I am glad that I put Lily first in all of this journey. I don't have any guilt about any of this and I don't live a single day wishing 'if only'. Of course I miss Lily every day and I the missing part is a chasm of yearning deep down inside. But life does go on - I have much to do. I promised Lily that I would open our own centre, that I would take forward her pragmatism and dynamic approach to walzing this terrible disease and that is what I intend to do.
In my line of work it's very easy to create glib strap lines to 'sell' to people in the hope that your words catch their semtiment and resonate with them. A few years ago, Lily suggested that we use 'freedom of mind is your birthright - reclaim it'. It's an interesting combination of words, that some we have worked with have grasped the significance of immediately. I saw that in the process of dying Lily lived that belief and in doing so, she opened up something inside of me. People ask me if i'm angry, some say that I 'deserve to be angry', considering all that has happened. But I say to them that every moment of anger is a moment lost. Why be angry and flood your mind with negative thoughts and resentments about things that you can do little to change. So instead I smile and say to them no, I'm not angry, just very very proud of Lily and very much in love - and it is that love that neutralises the negativity I could feel. Lily has my deepest respect and admiration and her courage has been an inspiration to me. The very least I can do is take some of that and pass it on. So that is what I am doing, enjoying love and passing it on to those who want to share it. I celebrate life and love and i've learned to surf the tsunami. That is the thing that Lily could always do and it is the greatest gift she gave me - learning to surf life. It's a wonderful feeling.
Fantastic result on the change in approach to the feeding tube Russell. Lily's legacy lives on and makes a fundamental difference from now on and into the future for those that need it the most. It sounds as though life is going to get much busier for you as you put in place the ideas and dreams that you both discussed over the last year and beyond.
boobles said:
Howz things with you DMN?
Thank you for asking. This coming Sunday will make one year since this all started. One year. I can hardly believe it. Part of me feel quite numb at the whole thing - a civilian form of shell shock for want of an expression. Not denial, definitely not denial, but I sit here sometimes wondering how the hell this all happened. It plays like a movie where some of the scenes are told in flashback whilst the story continues forward in the present time.
In truth, I am dreading the next few weeks and days, particularly Sunday. It is the one 'anniversary' that in truth leaves me staring over the edge of chaos and profound fear. Fear of not knowing what to do, fear of not knowing how to deal with this particular part. If you read some of the other banal rubbish I write on the trivia threads, you'll realise that in truth it's little more than a mask to take away what is a dread of the days and weeks to come. There is so much that seems so raw and open. Lily is a constant thought in my mind - there is not a moment of the day that goes by when I do not think of her, not a single moment when I think of how I feel about her and how much I miss her. It is an ache of loss that cannot be put into words, yet manifests itself as a chasm of dark and utter emptiness inside of me. My soulmate is far from me and though I feel her close, I am blind to her and that hurt of not seeing leaves me at times undone.
I know, one day at a time is the way forward, especially through Sunday and if you read this, then please just for me, if you remember, light a candle for my girl, because she loved light and she loved candles and on Sunday, more than any other day this year I know I will be undone.
Ofcourse we will remember, a candle will be lit, consider it done. I can't believe it's been almost a year when you first recieved the news.
We came into work today only to discover one of our colleagues had passed away on Sunday with cancer & none of us knew what was wrong with her & my understanding is, neither did she. We will remember on Sunday.
We came into work today only to discover one of our colleagues had passed away on Sunday with cancer & none of us knew what was wrong with her & my understanding is, neither did she. We will remember on Sunday.
Please remember Russell that we're all still here if you feel you need to write and put thoughts in to words. Just because Lily has passed we haven't forgotten you and please don't think that we don't want to read your words.
I often think of you when I see you post on other threads and wonder how you are doing, but not wanting to post anything or resurface this thread in case of upsetting you. I still pop in to this forum daily and check if this thread has been updated
We shall remember Lily these coming days. Please post up if you need to.
I often think of you when I see you post on other threads and wonder how you are doing, but not wanting to post anything or resurface this thread in case of upsetting you. I still pop in to this forum daily and check if this thread has been updated
We shall remember Lily these coming days. Please post up if you need to.
I have been reading through this thread a while today looking for something. I stop at various posts from kind people and I try to draw strength from words said at times almost a year ago. I sit, I read, I think, I ponder, I reflect and then I wonder more.
As time passes and your loved one is gone, at what point does the mind say enough? Enough of the daily thinking, the minute by minute thoughts and reflections of minutaed moments. At what point does the mind say 'come on, there's a life to be lived'? I know that life goes on, but the heels drag in and the mind says no. No, wait a while longer because you are not ready. You are not ready to face the onslaught proper. You're still dallying; playing footsie with old father time upon the veneered floor of life's long corridor where dust settles as moments in a crowded mind. You are not ready the voice says. You are not ready it says again. You are not ready it says yet one more time, then it says once more, this time with hurt behind the eyes, you're not ready. Stop, it says, wait, pause a while, gather your breath, grieve, mourn, suffer your loss, accept, but grieve. But how?
For I am not ready.
When the voice says grieve, it is the voice of that inner child like part, bereft of love and abandoned to a fate of one. But not abandoned, not orphaned, left unwillingly and before time. It should have been me, take me instead, why did you not take me the response comes again, Why did you not take me? it speaks with that insistent voice before the lips temble and the voice cracks to a deeper mourning. Like funneling torrents from a cracked dam, the words break free, take me. Take me instead, take me. Take me and spare her life, the voice cries out, the words puddle into a lake of thoughts and tortured emotion. Take me, i'll go willingly he says. Take me, please take me, I beg of you take me. But no, the stern master of time says no, this is not your time. This is hers. This is your task, your part of the journey, to stay and set the tracks annew. But where, but why, but when will they rejoin? says he. And old father time, he smiles his wizended smile and says little:
You'll know when it's your time.
You'll know when it is time, says he. But not now, not yet,
there's life to be lived and challenges to be met.
'But when will I know?', he asks again, 'when will I know i've done enough to rest a while?'
And old father time, the sly old fox that he is, smiles and gives a clue. A rhyme he says to tease.
'When you're old and your bones are sore, you'll be but dust upon the shore, then your lost love you will see, then your lost love, she and thee'.
And the man, that foolish man of brittle stuff and folly says,
'father time, oh father time, wait a moment more'.
When you see her, tell her she is loved, tell her she is not forgotten, no never forgotten.
Tell her she is in dreams of a night, caressed and touched as feathered fingers upon a velveteen cloth.
Tell her that her lips are missed and in a minds eye kissed a dozen times goodnight.
Tell her that her smile, is as bright and radiant as ever like the sun could be, still warms his broken heart and morned soul to burn away the shadows upon the ring's etched word Soulmate.
Tell her, he thinks of her a moment, then a moment more, then ten thousand before moving from the bed and then ten thousand more.
Tell her father time the sweet smile and perfumed hair, is held as gossamer tips upon the air,
as gentle caresses they touch his mind eye with the fair sun would not dare.
Tell her that her walk is missed, the steps upon the heels, their high clip.
Tell her the shoes of red, the lips of red, the pout to them is still there.
Tell her father time that love endures.
Tell her father time that love endures.
Tell her father time, that love is not lost, that it holds upon this earth as an eternal thing, a constant upon these shores.
As the laws of physics it remains, a reminder to us all, that though the clock of life be short, love conquers, then be still.
Be still a while beloved father time, that this man may rest a while - not too long to get complacent, but long enough; a while.
And tell her father time that upon the day they join, his last thought will be of her,
his last mortal thought will be of love and its great endure.
Tell her father messanger, give her his love and pass, to her this note of thanks from all a love letter to last.
Tell her she was remarkable, a true oneness, an entity - unbidden, a freedom fighter for a life well lived, or bondages unbidden.
Tell her she was dearly loved and admired for all her grace, her movement, her smile, her great intellect, her wisdom, oh and her cheeky face.
Tell her she was feisty, a quality he so loved, that her spirit and her courage was unbreakable and from it he drew so much.
And tell her father time he's sorry for the loss, for not being able to do more for her, not being able to do not nearly enough.
For it seems to him of father time, that life has but one curse;
our loved ones depart this earth, when you have yet to do your worst.
You took her early from me you fool, you wizzened imbicile, you played a trick you dirty thief, when you spun your roulette wheel.
It spun so fast, the days were gone, the days were all a blur, you left us little time to love, you swine, you rotten cur.
Yet in your cheating ways old fool, you forgot the biggest trick, that life and love get on without you, you didn't really get to pick.
For where this girl is, there's the thing, she looking from up on down and waving two fingers over to you... stop your silly frown.
You didn't win you old buffoon, father time you lost this one, for she went too early for you to do your worst, she walked and then you ran.
To late to chase her from this world, father time you silly man, it's time to go now wizzened fool, this story's nearly ran.
But think on old fool, your stealer fraud, you devious little man, a thief you may be, your games to play,
but some, they are to smart, they steal themselves away.
Upon this earth we grant them a gift, the gift of imortality;
not for them those cruel words 'didn't you used to be'.
no sir indeed, this live we live, though short or sometimes long,
Is but a tryste upon the earth, at best the lovers song,
I loved a girl, my love endures, she loved me back till death,
and I repay that love each day, with smiles and no regrets.
For no regrets, that is the hope, in time to come, time soon,
but for a while, i'll mourn my girl, but in a sunny and bright room.
I shall sit and think of love's great joy and time to think some more,
when I sit with her on pastures new, upon the verdant shore.
So go now old man, oh father time, you task is done at last,
for there is death of life indeed, but of love you failed this task.
Love endures of everything, it will be there till the end,
as long as fingers do embrace, then love will never end.
And love's great song is a simple one, it's music loud and great
it starts with a bright and glittering S and ends with the word Soulmates.
Forgive the ramblings, there are things deep inside that have a voice, a voice that need to be set free.
As time passes and your loved one is gone, at what point does the mind say enough? Enough of the daily thinking, the minute by minute thoughts and reflections of minutaed moments. At what point does the mind say 'come on, there's a life to be lived'? I know that life goes on, but the heels drag in and the mind says no. No, wait a while longer because you are not ready. You are not ready to face the onslaught proper. You're still dallying; playing footsie with old father time upon the veneered floor of life's long corridor where dust settles as moments in a crowded mind. You are not ready the voice says. You are not ready it says again. You are not ready it says yet one more time, then it says once more, this time with hurt behind the eyes, you're not ready. Stop, it says, wait, pause a while, gather your breath, grieve, mourn, suffer your loss, accept, but grieve. But how?
For I am not ready.
When the voice says grieve, it is the voice of that inner child like part, bereft of love and abandoned to a fate of one. But not abandoned, not orphaned, left unwillingly and before time. It should have been me, take me instead, why did you not take me the response comes again, Why did you not take me? it speaks with that insistent voice before the lips temble and the voice cracks to a deeper mourning. Like funneling torrents from a cracked dam, the words break free, take me. Take me instead, take me. Take me and spare her life, the voice cries out, the words puddle into a lake of thoughts and tortured emotion. Take me, i'll go willingly he says. Take me, please take me, I beg of you take me. But no, the stern master of time says no, this is not your time. This is hers. This is your task, your part of the journey, to stay and set the tracks annew. But where, but why, but when will they rejoin? says he. And old father time, he smiles his wizended smile and says little:
You'll know when it's your time.
You'll know when it is time, says he. But not now, not yet,
there's life to be lived and challenges to be met.
'But when will I know?', he asks again, 'when will I know i've done enough to rest a while?'
And old father time, the sly old fox that he is, smiles and gives a clue. A rhyme he says to tease.
'When you're old and your bones are sore, you'll be but dust upon the shore, then your lost love you will see, then your lost love, she and thee'.
And the man, that foolish man of brittle stuff and folly says,
'father time, oh father time, wait a moment more'.
When you see her, tell her she is loved, tell her she is not forgotten, no never forgotten.
Tell her she is in dreams of a night, caressed and touched as feathered fingers upon a velveteen cloth.
Tell her that her lips are missed and in a minds eye kissed a dozen times goodnight.
Tell her that her smile, is as bright and radiant as ever like the sun could be, still warms his broken heart and morned soul to burn away the shadows upon the ring's etched word Soulmate.
Tell her, he thinks of her a moment, then a moment more, then ten thousand before moving from the bed and then ten thousand more.
Tell her father time the sweet smile and perfumed hair, is held as gossamer tips upon the air,
as gentle caresses they touch his mind eye with the fair sun would not dare.
Tell her that her walk is missed, the steps upon the heels, their high clip.
Tell her the shoes of red, the lips of red, the pout to them is still there.
Tell her father time that love endures.
Tell her father time that love endures.
Tell her father time, that love is not lost, that it holds upon this earth as an eternal thing, a constant upon these shores.
As the laws of physics it remains, a reminder to us all, that though the clock of life be short, love conquers, then be still.
Be still a while beloved father time, that this man may rest a while - not too long to get complacent, but long enough; a while.
And tell her father time that upon the day they join, his last thought will be of her,
his last mortal thought will be of love and its great endure.
Tell her father messanger, give her his love and pass, to her this note of thanks from all a love letter to last.
Tell her she was remarkable, a true oneness, an entity - unbidden, a freedom fighter for a life well lived, or bondages unbidden.
Tell her she was dearly loved and admired for all her grace, her movement, her smile, her great intellect, her wisdom, oh and her cheeky face.
Tell her she was feisty, a quality he so loved, that her spirit and her courage was unbreakable and from it he drew so much.
And tell her father time he's sorry for the loss, for not being able to do more for her, not being able to do not nearly enough.
For it seems to him of father time, that life has but one curse;
our loved ones depart this earth, when you have yet to do your worst.
You took her early from me you fool, you wizzened imbicile, you played a trick you dirty thief, when you spun your roulette wheel.
It spun so fast, the days were gone, the days were all a blur, you left us little time to love, you swine, you rotten cur.
Yet in your cheating ways old fool, you forgot the biggest trick, that life and love get on without you, you didn't really get to pick.
For where this girl is, there's the thing, she looking from up on down and waving two fingers over to you... stop your silly frown.
You didn't win you old buffoon, father time you lost this one, for she went too early for you to do your worst, she walked and then you ran.
To late to chase her from this world, father time you silly man, it's time to go now wizzened fool, this story's nearly ran.
But think on old fool, your stealer fraud, you devious little man, a thief you may be, your games to play,
but some, they are to smart, they steal themselves away.
Upon this earth we grant them a gift, the gift of imortality;
not for them those cruel words 'didn't you used to be'.
no sir indeed, this live we live, though short or sometimes long,
Is but a tryste upon the earth, at best the lovers song,
I loved a girl, my love endures, she loved me back till death,
and I repay that love each day, with smiles and no regrets.
For no regrets, that is the hope, in time to come, time soon,
but for a while, i'll mourn my girl, but in a sunny and bright room.
I shall sit and think of love's great joy and time to think some more,
when I sit with her on pastures new, upon the verdant shore.
So go now old man, oh father time, you task is done at last,
for there is death of life indeed, but of love you failed this task.
Love endures of everything, it will be there till the end,
as long as fingers do embrace, then love will never end.
And love's great song is a simple one, it's music loud and great
it starts with a bright and glittering S and ends with the word Soulmates.
Forgive the ramblings, there are things deep inside that have a voice, a voice that need to be set free.
Did you write that Russell?
I started to read it but had to stop I am afraid. I am sitting in an open plan office and not in a position to read words like that as they started to send shivers down my spine, and my eyes were pricking ready to cry.
My father was diagnosed with cancer round the time of Lily's passing (I was following your story so it really hit me) although he looks like on the mend and has finished his chemo. So the words above are just too much to read at this moment in work. Maybe later, at home, with a glass of wine, and some tissues.
Thoughts are with you and candle ready for Sunday.
I started to read it but had to stop I am afraid. I am sitting in an open plan office and not in a position to read words like that as they started to send shivers down my spine, and my eyes were pricking ready to cry.
My father was diagnosed with cancer round the time of Lily's passing (I was following your story so it really hit me) although he looks like on the mend and has finished his chemo. So the words above are just too much to read at this moment in work. Maybe later, at home, with a glass of wine, and some tissues.
Thoughts are with you and candle ready for Sunday.
Thank you for your support. I did write those words. I don't know how or why, but when I sit down at a keyboard something weird happens and words just fall out of my head pretty much in the order they appear on a page. There's a deeper part of me that I know has a lot to say of love and i'm not finished with talking about how I feel.
I'm glad your father is on the mend Thank you for your support. I did write those words. I don't know how or why, but when I sit down at a keyboard something weird happens and words just fall out of my head pretty much in the order they appear ona page. There's a deeper part of me that I know has a lot to say of love and i'm not finished with talking about how I feel.
I'm glad your father is on the mend Kateg28 and every time I read of someone coming out the other side it bolsters me. It lights a candle in the darkness of sader parts of my own mind.
I'm glad your father is on the mend Thank you for your support. I did write those words. I don't know how or why, but when I sit down at a keyboard something weird happens and words just fall out of my head pretty much in the order they appear ona page. There's a deeper part of me that I know has a lot to say of love and i'm not finished with talking about how I feel.
I'm glad your father is on the mend Kateg28 and every time I read of someone coming out the other side it bolsters me. It lights a candle in the darkness of sader parts of my own mind.
The way you write is truly fascinating.
For me, having followed your thread closely - it has made me appreciate my family and the closest to me that little bit more.
You should write a short book on your story because it has made me completely review the way I look at a number of aspects of my life, mainly the way I think about those I love.
For me, having followed your thread closely - it has made me appreciate my family and the closest to me that little bit more.
You should write a short book on your story because it has made me completely review the way I look at a number of aspects of my life, mainly the way I think about those I love.
Thank you. I am writing - but in a different way. We collected teddybears and over the years I used to tell Lily stories at night about them. I have quite literally hundreds of stories in my head from many of the different characters. They are all so clear and defined. Over the years I built a whole world for them and they aren't just child like stories, they are stories with adult themes and thoughts. On my do list for later this year is a creative writing course because one of the things I want to be able to do is turn these into a book. Lily loved them, she almost demanded I tell her a story every night and in truth it was always easy to make a new one, the characters are so well defined. They are imtimate, love stories for want of a description and they are funny, cheeky and full of adventure and excitement.
That's where I think I shall send my 'talent' for now.
I was re-reading this thread over the last few days. It has helped me understand more about where I am now and more importantly, the journey upon which I have been. It's hard sometimes to take it all in. I know i'm still processing great parts of it. It's not a blur anymore or that whirlwind of chaotic and stressful days. It reminds me more of the morning after a drunken 'party' (wrong word I know, but it's the only one that fits) - you know the kind of party where you look around the wreckage in the house and wonder how the hell the wine stain ended up on the ceiling and why are there glasses in all the potplants? It obviously happened, it's just that with your mushyheadedness, you cannot recall anymore the details of the night before. It feels like that at times. Yet at other times, there is the lucid clarity that pierces the brain brighter than any lighthouse lamp at short range.
It is what is. I keep coming back to that. I keep coming back to Lily's lines time and time again. But that's not enough anymore. I am searching in part for a truth, a reality. In all of this I am casting about for me. What of me. What am I now? Who am I now? Am I the same person now? What do I now do with 'all of this'? Sometimes it feels that I am standing arms out, posing that question and Lily is there saying nothing has changed, nothing is different. Even as I write this, I feel her love, standing over and behind my left shoulder, and touching my left hand, making my palms tingle. I can feel my finger crook as it did when I held hers and said soulmates. There is an itch there, a yearning for that finger to be closed again, to be entwined once again with hers. That feeling I think will never leave me. I am left with a yearning, an ache inside; it hurts. There is a soreness of hurt in my chest and the pit of my stomach, that sense of loss - a hungry man not eaten for weeks.
I know it is what it is, a process of adjustment, of reaching an inner understanding and acceptance. I turn again, once again to my favourite song and think of the voyage. Can a couple endure a voyage when one crew member is lost to the seas? No poor poetry, just a simple question. Can love endure its soulmates depart? Can the broken heart endure the loss of its twin beat, its sounding board, its reflective beat, its echo? In part the mind answers yes, it answers 'you have to'. In part it answers 'many do, they get on. They do'. Aaah yes the elusive 'they', the mass, the elusive collective we talk about where we compare our lives, when we launch forth our fire arrows in search of the half shadow that shows land.
Many years ago, for reasons I will not go into here, I stood one day on top of Beach Head. I put my feet over the edge and looked down. It was early evening and over the way there were people walking dogs, or people going for an autumn stroll and life was carrying on as normal. And then there was me. To this day I still have no idea how I got there - not really, not that day, how I got there that day. Though in part it was a mind that had had enough looking for an answer to something that was at the time unanswerable. Some time and a great deal of understanding and work later I went back with Lily and stood in the same place. All those feelings had gone, the sense of desperatation that had plagued me for years had all gone and I held her tight and she put her arm around mine and it felt so right. I felt so safe, so secure, so strong. I'm not in that place and have no desire or need to stand upon that same rock, but to know that the person you love is there with you not just in your times of desparation (because it is she who saw me through it), but aftwerwards, when the sun comes out and all you see is the beautiful sunset and not the shattered chalk below, is a feeling beyond my word skills. I walk with her each day close by and near and touch each day with that same feeling. Some things in life are unbreakable and they are the precious elements we hold close, to sustain us through the years when they are no longer here in the flesh, in this plane of existance.
Perhaps therein lies my answer to my earlier question. Sail the ship for the two of us. Sail it as one, but with a life shared for two. I think we've already sailed it through the bumpiest seas, perhaps now the thing to do is find a sheltered cove to sit back a while and enjoy the late afternet sunset, enjoy the picnic and bask in the love of it all. Yes, that is it. Bask in the love of it all.
That's where I think I shall send my 'talent' for now.
I was re-reading this thread over the last few days. It has helped me understand more about where I am now and more importantly, the journey upon which I have been. It's hard sometimes to take it all in. I know i'm still processing great parts of it. It's not a blur anymore or that whirlwind of chaotic and stressful days. It reminds me more of the morning after a drunken 'party' (wrong word I know, but it's the only one that fits) - you know the kind of party where you look around the wreckage in the house and wonder how the hell the wine stain ended up on the ceiling and why are there glasses in all the potplants? It obviously happened, it's just that with your mushyheadedness, you cannot recall anymore the details of the night before. It feels like that at times. Yet at other times, there is the lucid clarity that pierces the brain brighter than any lighthouse lamp at short range.
It is what is. I keep coming back to that. I keep coming back to Lily's lines time and time again. But that's not enough anymore. I am searching in part for a truth, a reality. In all of this I am casting about for me. What of me. What am I now? Who am I now? Am I the same person now? What do I now do with 'all of this'? Sometimes it feels that I am standing arms out, posing that question and Lily is there saying nothing has changed, nothing is different. Even as I write this, I feel her love, standing over and behind my left shoulder, and touching my left hand, making my palms tingle. I can feel my finger crook as it did when I held hers and said soulmates. There is an itch there, a yearning for that finger to be closed again, to be entwined once again with hers. That feeling I think will never leave me. I am left with a yearning, an ache inside; it hurts. There is a soreness of hurt in my chest and the pit of my stomach, that sense of loss - a hungry man not eaten for weeks.
I know it is what it is, a process of adjustment, of reaching an inner understanding and acceptance. I turn again, once again to my favourite song and think of the voyage. Can a couple endure a voyage when one crew member is lost to the seas? No poor poetry, just a simple question. Can love endure its soulmates depart? Can the broken heart endure the loss of its twin beat, its sounding board, its reflective beat, its echo? In part the mind answers yes, it answers 'you have to'. In part it answers 'many do, they get on. They do'. Aaah yes the elusive 'they', the mass, the elusive collective we talk about where we compare our lives, when we launch forth our fire arrows in search of the half shadow that shows land.
Many years ago, for reasons I will not go into here, I stood one day on top of Beach Head. I put my feet over the edge and looked down. It was early evening and over the way there were people walking dogs, or people going for an autumn stroll and life was carrying on as normal. And then there was me. To this day I still have no idea how I got there - not really, not that day, how I got there that day. Though in part it was a mind that had had enough looking for an answer to something that was at the time unanswerable. Some time and a great deal of understanding and work later I went back with Lily and stood in the same place. All those feelings had gone, the sense of desperatation that had plagued me for years had all gone and I held her tight and she put her arm around mine and it felt so right. I felt so safe, so secure, so strong. I'm not in that place and have no desire or need to stand upon that same rock, but to know that the person you love is there with you not just in your times of desparation (because it is she who saw me through it), but aftwerwards, when the sun comes out and all you see is the beautiful sunset and not the shattered chalk below, is a feeling beyond my word skills. I walk with her each day close by and near and touch each day with that same feeling. Some things in life are unbreakable and they are the precious elements we hold close, to sustain us through the years when they are no longer here in the flesh, in this plane of existance.
Perhaps therein lies my answer to my earlier question. Sail the ship for the two of us. Sail it as one, but with a life shared for two. I think we've already sailed it through the bumpiest seas, perhaps now the thing to do is find a sheltered cove to sit back a while and enjoy the late afternet sunset, enjoy the picnic and bask in the love of it all. Yes, that is it. Bask in the love of it all.
I think you should seriously think about writing a book about your's & Lily's journey and what you have both been through. I know your words have touched and helped a lot of people on here dealing with various aspects of Cancer and I'm sure you could reach out to a wider audience.
They say silence is deafening and I think it would not only help you Russell but so many other people as well dealing not with just cancer but losing loved ones.
They say silence is deafening and I think it would not only help you Russell but so many other people as well dealing not with just cancer but losing loved ones.
Granville said:
I think you should seriously think about writing a book about your's & Lily's journey and what you have both been through. I know your words have touched and helped a lot of people on here dealing with various aspects of Cancer and I'm sure you could reach out to a wider audience.
They say silence is deafening and I think it would not only help you Russell but so many other people as well dealing not with just cancer but losing loved ones.
I have thought of it, I continue to think of it. I am, as of yet undecided. If I do, I know this thread and all that has stemmed forth from it, will feature centre stage. Because without this place, I would not have made it. That much I know for sure.They say silence is deafening and I think it would not only help you Russell but so many other people as well dealing not with just cancer but losing loved ones.
You really do have gift for writing - very poetic words there. Like Kate, I thought you were maybe quoting something you'd been reading recently.
Without being nosey I would love to know a bit more of your background and how you and Lilly came to be a couple. Yours is a love story that others can only dream of.
I've followed your journey this last year and it's been a privilege to have been able to share it with you.
Without being nosey I would love to know a bit more of your background and how you and Lilly came to be a couple. Yours is a love story that others can only dream of.
I've followed your journey this last year and it's been a privilege to have been able to share it with you.
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