I have known the truth for a long time but have been too scared to admit, I have been wrapped up in a kind of grief to acknowledge, unable to cope with my new reality, but I have finally admitted it is time to move on. The admission is more painful in that I have move from my ‘safe place’ where I used to worked nearly five years ago and move into the place I am now, despite my feelings and the imperfection of my reality, it is time to own it.
Working for a brilliant employer in London, meeting some wonderful people who were there when my relationship ended with T, I moved to Swindon where the grieving process started. I was told it would take 18 months to like my new job and learn to love Swindon as much as I did Southampton, I never quite managed it to be honest. For years I have fruitlessly compared my current employment to where I cam from and the people I knew. I have to let them go, I have to tell myself how lucky I was to meet such people and yes keep in touch but be aware that they have moved on as much as I have moved. My life has changed since meeting H, I am off to Germany for the fourth time this year – or is it five, I forget – which I could not have dreamed of. I am to intents and purposes married, we are working the relationship as best we came, like so many other people.
I will always treasure and speak highly at my time in London, of the kindness, and lack of malice in the banter in the office, it has changed me, but I no longer plan to make a visit in the Office, to many people have moved, and I am less known than before.
The process has been painful for me, and others, as I have tried to live a dual existence, as I have tried to live an alternative existence.
I think this is a good thing, though a sad thing, because in moving I can begin to shape where I am at the moment, I can become a full person rather than a shadow of a person at work, I can become who God intends me to be, right now, in Swindon and not the person I was living in Southampton, I have to grasp the moment not the cling to the past, afraid to move on.
I will always treasure my time in London, but I cannot live life yearning for something that cannot be recaptured, a unique combination time and place, and of people and circumstance. I look to that time and say ‘thank you, thank you much, it has made me a richer and better person, but I am here now and must live today and not yesterday.
My partner lost his Mother just over a year ago, and we going to remember his Mum’s birthday, and the grieving process seems much the same, yet losing a mother is far more painful. I see his, well my, family make the first tentative steps to living again, to moving away from the black hole of pain, and step cautiously into the light, nervous of what it might bring, this totally alien experience. Their journey will never end, I am still on that journey of daring to be happy without someone you love, but each day we translate the pain of loss into a hymn of praise and thankfulness – little by little.
In many ways I am the same, I am daring to move from the past into the present, it is a little scary, and a little sad, but I have raise my hat to the past and say ‘thank you’ and bid adieu because I cannot, we cannot, grow without the light of the present or else we just live in a memory, and a memory that slowly drives us insane.