It’s a simple church dating back from the 10th century. The Font and an Effigy date back from the 13th century. The small graveyard shows the age more starkly with many of the gravestones now completely weathered by the Yorkshire wind and rain. Faceless.
Today as I wandered along the village street to post a letter I felt faceless. When I first moved here I knew many in the village. A number of good friends. But slowly those that knew me have thinned out. Left. Passed away. To the point where this morning I walked in a beautiful but alien village. I know hardly anyone here now. That has been amplified during a pandemic. I hope that as things open up just maybe I can start to feel part of the community again. It won’t be easy.
I suspect I’m not the only one facing this new challenge.
It’s been too long. Far too long since Hawklad got to do his favourite ever activity. Handling birds of prey.
He’s done this a few times. Sadly not enough. Hawklad is someone who struggles with social encounters. He finds it difficult to build up trust in others. It takes time and patience. But he can and does. He forms really close bonds with those he develops trust with. Real lasting friendships.
It’s so different with Birds of Prey. Instantly establishing a bond. Complete confidence and trust. Even getting to stroke the chest of one raptor who the falconer said that it had taken him months of effort to build up the same level of trust.
That’s why in an ideal world Hawklad will get to fulfil his dream of having his own falconry and rescue centre. And we all know dreams can come true. There is always hope.
I was trying to free up some space on the blog so I was looking what old stuff could de deleted. Can’t believe I’ve tortured people with 1600 posts since I started back in 2017. You know what, I never got round to deleting anything. I was too busy reading my first few posts. Wow they were bad (I’m not saying I’ve improved over the years as well….).
Reading those first posts a couple of message shine through. I was understandably messed up and I was at my lowest point. There was hardly any hope in my words. Hope is often the first thing that LOSS takes from you. It did with me.
Well 4 years later HOPE has returned. I now have a better perspective on life. LOSS is still the worst feeling. Loss of Hope is just as soul destroying. But now I can see a number of new more hopeful dimensions to this dreadful process. It wasn’t all bad. My life focus changed. I realised just how unimportant a career is in the scheme of things. A career is not about personal development rather its often a way of missing out on those important family moments. Single parenting is a tough gig but you get more time with your kids. More quality time. Time is the most precious commodity. And yes doors to close permanently but life eventually does go on again. New pathways open up. Pathways which would not have been found without LOSS. New OPPORTUNITIES, new FRIENDSHIPS. New HOPE.
Sunday morning in Yorkshire. Like every Sunday morning for over a year now. Not enough sleep. Get up. Feed the pets. Exercise. Housework. Give Hawklad his breakfast. Feel frustratingly hemmed in. Isolated. Overthink life.
But eventually I start to breathe. Remembering what is important in life. In my life. Remembering those personal treasures that are so close to my heart. That always lift me up. That make me smile inside and out. And I realise just how truly fortunate I am.
The snow is now a distant memory. The last bit to cling on was this random block of ice. The last part of the snowman. Snowman to Snow Bunny.
It’s been one of those weeks so far. A week off from school. In other years a week of trips to the Zoo and the Seaside. Maybe a wander in the Hills or Moors. Not this year. Not last year.
A week at home….
Which kinda makes it like every other week. Ok no school at home but it feels the same. Get up early and do my exercise. Make breakfast for Hawklad. Do housework. Do the wash. Change the bedding. Make food. Go out in the garden a few times. Fighting with the cable signal. Watch Disney Plus. Feel bad about not reading so squeeze in a chapter. Go to bed. Seemingly not doing much yet wondering where the days have gone.
Thankfully connecting with friends. Friends are able to break the Groundhog Hog sensation for a while. That is so important these strange days.
Don’t you just love WordPress. It’s a bit like Prunes. You know they are good for you. So many benefits but a monumental pain in the backside….
Blogging is really so good for me but WordPress is a monumental pain in the ….. It just feels like wading through treacle.
Will it just once allow me to format the post as I want it to look.
Will it just once have a truly user friendly editor.
Will it just once not keep trying mess up my photos so I have to constantly keep on reloading them.
Will it stop showing me that my blog looks fine when some users can’t see the photos or only see messed up formatting.
Will it stop messing up a post when I dare to try and include a music or video link.
Will it stop changing all my text into micro font if I accidentally delete a bit WP doesn’t want me to do.
Will it stop randomly deleting people from my following list and then not bothering to tell me.
Will it stop randomly deleting comments I post.
Will it stop randomly deciding to freeze the iPad app. In fact will it stop freezing my iPad – it’s the only app that has ever done that for me.
Will the help desk stop blaming Apple for the working of its App.
I like blogging. It helped me cope with loss. It helped me become a better parent. A better person. Made some great friends through it. Kept me connected with people during this period of isolation. So I guess I will keep taking my Prunes. The benefits are so worth it.
It’s almost goodbye to 2020. Well that was a year. I blame one person for everything…
Boris Johnson on the 31st December 2019 “This is going to be a fantastic year……”
What an absolute Numpty. I guess it was for him and his cohorts in terms of corruption and feathering ones own nest.
But for the rest of us it was a challenge. I could have used so many other words here but let’s go for the one I can spell. I’m not going to go on about the obvious things this time. Let’s just hope that 2021 is better. This year has not exactly set the bar that high but let’s not tempt fate. I will leave that up to our so called leader.
But here’s the thing about 2020. It’s been truly horrid and tragic for so many. It’s been tough for our little family but let’s also remember the positive stuff as well. So many people have demonstrated what a wonderful, caring and beautiful world it can still be. Old friendships have strengthened. It’s also brought truly wonderful new friendships which have enriched my life.
Last nights Full Moon. Almost beyond my little camera phone but it had a go. One moon but so many looking up at it. So many you don’t know but some you do know. Looking at the moon together can shrink the miles.
That’s so important in these strange times. When travel is not happening. When meet ups have to be virtual. When the telephone starts to become your friend again (sometimes….).
The problem is that as essential as email, social media and the telephone are they are not perfect. Certainly not for me. They have a huge drawback. I can still feel a long way from the person I’m communicating with. Sometimes feels like I’m stood rather alone shouting (and hoping to be heard) across the county lines, country borders, across the waters. But for some reason looking up at the moon is different. The thought that others are maybe looking up at the very same moon feels like the miles are shrinking. As if I’m stood next to others, to you.
So the next time you look up at the moon just remember so many others are. Maybe even your friends and those you care for. It’s the greatest free get together. Something that even 2020 hasn’t found a way of stopping.
Beautiful, resilient and a bit of fight about them.
A flower than can melt the heart and then draw blood.
England has even had civil wars over a white and red rose.
I’ve always felt a strong link to roses. That’s not surprising since I come from the White Rose County. Yet the link is stronger than that.
The last present I gave to my partner was a rose. Since then that delicate white rose has been intrinsically linked with my grief journey.
We have another rose which is decades old and has come from my partners childhood home. So it’s a link with Hawklads past. Family members now gone.
I also often look at a rose and see symbols of life. Today I was looking at a rose and it made me think of friendship. Some of the rose buds seem to go on forever. If you are lucky in life you may find one of those friendships that do that, always special, always beautiful, everlasting. Yet you also see rose buds that fail to bloom. How many times have I had thought that I had found a great friendship yet for whatever reason things never seemed to take off. Then you come across those roses which burst into life, producing the most stunning flowers, yet within days they have died back and faded. Just like those friendships which seem like they will be the best ever and yet suddenly they end – wonderful but not ever lasting, so short lived. You just never know with roses and you just never know with friends.
Today it was friends but on another day I will see roses symbolising another part of my life. I’ve done it with grief, parenting and hope. What will the Rose show me tomorrow?