I woke up angry again this morning. Angry like the beautiful red sun that I watched rise in to the crystal clear sky, formidable, aggressive and firey. I get angry at myself for still getting emotional: for getting angry, upset, sad. I feel that I should be ‘over’ everything, I should have moved on, be totally happy in the present.
So why did I cry when I lit a candle in the cathedral this morning and thought of my Mum? She died nearly 2 years ago and left us mentally almost 3 times that.
And why did it affect me so much, letting our wedding anniversary pass without comment? I am in a far better place emotionally, physically, mentally than I was this time last year. So why am I still feeling like I could cry in anguish at any given moment?
Time is a great healer. They say. Or it is said. But does it really heal or does it just make you forget, blur the memories, soften the intensity of the pain? But are you really healed?
I can still make myself cry when I remember how I felt when the consultant told us there was no heart beat and therefore the loss of our first baby on 19th August 2006. The shock and surprise so intense it stunned me until the realisation that our family wasn’t going to become 3 and a life-long dream to become a Mummy, floored me.
That date haunted me. Once upon a time, hidden away as a good memory date; the day I got the results I needed to go to the university I had set my heart on. Now a devastating date and memory… Being left to cry in a little room, signing paperwork and organising operational timings. Creeping under a duvet in my mother in law’s house and sobbing, feeling useless, hopeless and not enough, not good enough to nourish our baby.
And yet, the date now, over 11 years on is superseded by happier memories. The day I went into labour with Willy, my big brute of a bouncing baby who took 2 days to arrive because he was so healthy he got stuck!
I woke up angry this morning. Angry like the red sun that rose above the frosty fields, turning them pink.
But as the sun sets this afternoon, softer, silvery, quietly sliding behind the dark of the trees, I feel as humble.
A date is a date. An anniversary an anniversary. And as years pass, those anniversaries can change, for the worse but also for the better. The Big Man is right. While I am too angry, feel it too hypocritical to celebrate another year of marriage, we are still married and together. And I will consider his suggestion that perhaps we need to something to celebrate the date, turn it back in to a happy date. Just as the arrival of Willy did.
Chatting with a dear friend this afternoon as we leant against her aga for warmth and cuddled her baby kittens, I realise how far I have come; we have come. And that I have so much to be grateful for.
So just like the setting sun, I am a softer, silvery version of myself. And far more humble.