There is an unbearable beauty about Edinburgh these days. All week I have witnessed nature’s exquisite performance; free displays so stunning to look upon that I am not sure if they are filling my heart with joy or wounding it with pain. It is too much to take in. I’ve come to think of my … Continue reading Unbearable Beauty
‘Every now and then life says, where do you think you’re going so fast?’ We’re apt to think it’s cruel but sometimes it’s a case of cruel to be kind.’ Those are a couple of lines from a Ron Sexsmith song called ‘Gold In Them Hills’. He’s a Canadian singer songwriter with a voice that … Continue reading Every Now and Then Life Says
My dad would have been 81 today but he died a few years shy of seeing another decade. It’s long enough ago for me to reflect peacefully, to cradle his absence from a place of stillness. Not that opening packages of memory comes without emotion, but now any pain I feel has a soft give, … Continue reading Whole
A late June night. I’d picked her up from the tram, and we were driving back along York Place. From there, we drove down Leith Walk, briefly passing through Haddington Place, before we turned onto Montgomery Street. She lifted her hand, an involuntary action, she didn't seem to know she was doing it, and pressed … Continue reading Absence
I’m reading a book on loan to me. S. brought it back from a trip to Australia earlier this year. ‘Any Ordinary Day’ is by Leigh Sales. It’s a collection of stories about the very worst things people can experience that rise up, out of the blue. The title is important; they are stories of … Continue reading Any Ordinary Day
I’m back in Ireland for a visit, on the windy north coast. Two years ago I was jettisoned back here, life interrupted, everything suspended after K. died. It was an unreal time, those early months. Your world contracts to the size of a snow globe, sometimes calm, but often shaken – those little white flecks making … Continue reading Those We Miss
I’ve just come across an online reference to a conference that took place in Glasgow a few months ago. It was called ‘Everyday Compassion: Supportive responses to dying and bereavement by schools, neighbourhoods and workplaces.’ I didn’t read much more, but I was interested in the fact that there had been such a conference as … Continue reading Everyday Compassion
I wonder why we say ‘drama queen’? Why not ‘dramaholic’, or ‘drama-addict’, or ‘drama-fanatic’? After all, Elizabeth Windsor (as my good friend likes to call her) is probably the least dramatic person I can think of. Not that I claim to know anything about E.W.’s character, other than what history tells of her 65 years … Continue reading Drop The Drama
People watching: the daydreaming it gives birth to is a great pastime, as one comes up with imaginary back-stories for him in the mustard trews with a Harris tweed waistcoat, or the older lady in a belted kimono with chunky amber clipped round her neck. The older I get, though, the more I realise that … Continue reading Invisible Load
For about a year after my husband died, maybe more, I could not read. My concentration wouldn't hold. It is a common side effect of bereavement: that inability to focus - on work, on conversation, on words on a page - without your mind wandering off into the past or spooling off into an unknown … Continue reading The Abstract Voice
