This morning, I was admiring my show stoppingly beautiful pink and yellow creeping roses, tall enough, this year, to be peeking in through my bedroom window, when I became mesmerised by the raindrops.
I watched as the rain slashed against the window, leaving the small droplets behind. I continued to be fixated as I watched the little drops at the top, start and stop, jerk and falter their way down the pane. I can only imagine that it was the force of gravity and wind, outside circumstances that triggered the little drops to meander their way downwards. They would glide until hitting another drop, and stop. And then together they would glide, drop… and stop as they hit another droplet. Getting bigger and gaining momentum until they slid, tumbling quickly and gathering more droplets and more speed, gravity and water weight pulling them down, faster and faster until they flew off the windowsill.
When I look back at other traumatic events in my life, fortunately just the 2, the unexpected loss and first miscarriage at 13 weeks and then the unexpected and sudden quick departure of my Mumbo, many people said that time would be the greatest healer. Time. And that I couldn’t rush the process.
Again, after the unexpected revelation of the truth about the lodger, the same was said. Time. Time would heal, would help me move on, if not forgive and forget, at least learn to live with everything.
Time has definitely been a contributing factor this time. And, as part of the reflection, it seems that 7 months is my typical ‘healing time’. 7 months for my body and mind to let go of loss and conceive Tom, 7 months for me to feel joy in my heart and soul again after losing my Mumbo.
7 months on from being plunged in to the depths of the sea, to find my rocky bottom and today I was able to answer honestly to my friend who asked if life was feeling more ‘solid’ again. Yes.
But is it just time? Was it just time that got me to this place of ‘solidness’?
Watching the raindrops, I feel this particular period of healing did include the passing of time but also something else. The raindrops gathered and grew. The welcomed other raindrops to them and grew. They gathered, they grew and then they flew, the last raindrop embraced gave them everything they needed to tip them into flight mode.
If I was a little small rain droplet 7 months ago, after the initial shock, I did begin to gather. I jerked and slid until I found my first lifeline. Held on and then found my next one, holding them close, taking strength and moving on to find the next lifeline.
I am told I am doing well, been so strong. I am strong because of the strength I have gained and learnt from others. I am strong because of my family, immediate, given birth to and married into. I am strong because of the friends that put themselves in my path and held me up and leant me their strength and warmed me with their compassion. I am strong from the help and guidance of professionals from their sofas and their books.
But I am remaining strong because of the first raindrop I found and that has remained constant and consistent throughout. He was the first. He has never let go, never wavered. Together we will continue to jerk and slide, grow and now leap and fly off the ledge and into the unknown.