Some readers of the New York Times will appreciate the geography lesson that went along with a recent entertainment review. A review of the Gary Oldman play I mentioned in the last post. Helping its readers they described York as a ‘small city 210 miles north of London…’. Maybe they could have added ‘strangely that the USA’s largest city by population was in fact named after a Duke of this small English city and a small English city which was founded over 500 years prior to that former small New Amsterdam east coast of America trading post was ever dreamt of’. Or maybe they could have further added that it was ‘a small European city which was once the political centre of the Roman Empire’. Although at least one Glossy Las Vegas Hotel probably claims that distinction now as well’.

There might be some form on those type of heritage claims… Trump’s Special Envoy has recently compared the historic and stunningly beautiful Elysee Palace to Trumps Mar-a-Lago Florida Clubhouse.

There are no words 😂😂😂😂😂

But there is a real point here. Quite a few of us often assume that our little part of this beautiful planet is ‘the centre of the known universe’, and everyone will have heard of it. It doesn’t work like that. Life doesn’t work like that. Billions will have absolutely no idea about a provincial small city on an unremarkable island off the west coast of Europe.

Today I was driving towards that small provincial northern city while listening to a radio news item on GRIEF. One recently widowed woman talked about the struggles she was having with banks and large companies, how it was a nightmare to try to change things like joint accounts and pensions. I can so relate to that, even after nearly 9 years and countless communications, still we are receiving letters addressed to Hawklad’s Mum. The Widow added that she often felt like she was going crazy. Her world had crashed to a halt yet when she spoke to people at the banks and companies, it felt like it was business as usual for them. The world was still turning and she had been left behind.

That’s so true, I so understand that. I can remember trying to sort things out with banks, I felt like a wreck, time had stopped, yet I could see and hear the world continuing as normal all around me. People paying in money, sorting out loans for new cars, new houses. Staff talking about holidays, television and nights out. Couldn’t they see me, but why should they. The vast proportion of those I could see and hear had no idea who I was, no idea what I was going through.

Only now can I truly see this.

26 thoughts on “Small city”

  2. It’ll be six years next month, and despite a notarized affidavit AND a copy of his death certificate, my late husband’s name still appears on my UTILITY bills.

    I’m over it.

    Whatever.

    Like

    Reply

  3. The grieving process is so hard, Gary, because sadly the world does move on and around and forward. I saw this, in a smaller way compared to yours, when I was handling my sister the my mom’s affairs after their recent deaths.

    All the feels you’re feeling are totally valid regardless of how the world glosses over them. 🙏

    Like

    Reply

    1. I remember one bank manager asking me if I had any other proof of death apart from the death certificate. It was the one time I really snapped at someone. I shouted do you want a photo of the body. The bank manager quite sheepishly replied that the certificate would be fine.

      Like

      Reply

      1. The Barbie movie WRECKS me because Ken completely reminds me of Joel, plus I know he would have us dressing as the movie characters.

        Songs take me by surprise. I bought a cassette to MP3 converter and I expect some of those conversions to mess me up bevause the cassettes were made when we were together.

        Like

  6. I remember many years ago having similar thoughts as you in your penultimate paragraph while sitting on a park bench and noticing all those oblivious passers-by getting on with their lives

    Like

    Reply

  7. A slogan at one of my jobs was: It only matters when it is you. My job was to recruit community members to become advocates in one-to-one relationships with people who had disabilities. For many people who had never met a person who had a disability, the idea of spending time with someone who had a disability was inconceivable. I have always been amazed at the human capacity to create a bubble and then live in that bubble as though the rest of the world does not exist. And then when something catastrophic happens and the bubble is burst, some people are aggrieved. Others, though, turn that opportunity into compassion and empathy.

    Like

    Reply

  9. In western culture I think we don’t know how to deal with loss and grief so when we are confronted with having to assist someone who is recently bereaved we are unable to be sympathetic and compassionate. It’s a sad state of affairs but I have witnessed this so I know it is true. As for T, you are right – the word for him does not exist, for him or his followers.

    Like

    Reply

  11. Loved York! I especially remember the Harry Potter Shoppe and the queue of folk waiting to get in. I didn’t go in, by the way, but enjoyed seeing the happy folk who did. Grief is such a subjective thing. I have lost a lot of dancing friends to old age and disease. Their partners/spouses try to continue the same lifestyle; i.e., dancing. But, they inevitably drop out eventually. Life does take a different course and I believe that’s OK. We do, I believe, need to accept life on its terms. And yet I also appreciate that ‘change’ is so hard for most of us. I’ve enjoyed watching your journey. I believe you will have helped so many in many ways; as difficult as it has been for you.

    Like

    Reply

      1. I was lucky – when my parents died my sister did th majority of the work. talking to her, I couldn’t believe the amount of duplication and payment and hold-ups she encountered.

        Like

Leave a reply to quercuscommunity Cancel reply