The flat light, 100’s of holiday makers, slush and icy moguls made for dangerous skiing on the last funnel route down to the village. The air buzzed with the sound of the helicopter and I counted at least 3 blood wagons.
Blood wagons make my blood run cold; those split seconds as you search for the helmet / hat / head to see if they belong to your precious people. The relief when they aren’t. The silent prayer of thanks and thoughts for those injured.
It prompted some of the early thought processes I had right at the beginning of all ‘this mess’ in my marriage.
3 questions continued to play around in my consciousness. Would I be able to forgive? Could I ever trust implicitly? Would it be possible to love him again?
In the early days, I thought forgiveness would be impossible. I started to learn to forgive by learning to forgive myself; by showing myself empathy and compassion. I learnt that forgiving was meant for my benefit, my peace, my calm soul, not to vindicate him or condone their actions. And now I am willing and open to forgiving him. And perhaps one day I will wake up and find that I am ready to let it all go, show compassion and empathise with how he was feeling, the desire for adventure, excitement, secrecy, something that was just his and forgive the man he was. Perhaps. To forgive the man he is being, is easier. But is it that simple! They are the same man….
In the early days, I thought trusting would be impossible. This is the question I still battle with most. It isn’t necessarily, will I ever be able to trust him again but will I ever be able to trust myself again, my instincts? Will I ever be able to determine who is speaking the truth, my gut feel or my saboteur? Snow White seeing only the good, or Dobby questioning everything? I chose Snow White and ignored Dobby who end up being right. So was Snow White really my saboteur – protecting me, by allowing me to choose to avoid what I feared? The jury is still out on this one. As for trusting the Big Man, well, it is the same as forgiveness.
In the early days, I thought love would be impossible. And yet I now realise that this is the one question that was the easiest to answer. I never stopped loving him and perhaps that is why the pain was so great, so intense and even now still so raw.
Seeing the blood wagons reminded me of what I realised very early on, what love means to me. Love means not being being able to breathe or live without someone else, because they are so intertwined with being part of you. Love means dropping everything just to be with that one person if they are in pain, suffering or even dying just to be with them, hold them, embrace them and connect in the way that only those in love can without words. Love means being able to laugh together even in the darkest of times, because you are together.
Shortly after the news broke, a very dear and close friend told me she had been hit by her very own juggernaut; cancer. My heart went out to her, my thoughts and prayers were hers.
Yet the message to me was very clear in my heart. That if the same diagnosis was mine, there would only be one person I would want to comfort me. That if the same diagnosis was his, there would be only one place I would want to be, by his side.
My heart knew early on the answer to the question of the possibility of love. It has been my head, fighting the other two questions, fathoming out the answers to trust and forgiveness that have held the love in.