After All This Time

Lately, I have found myself drawn to return here. There have been moments over the past 7 years where I wanted to write something but couldn’t quite find all the words, or I mentally composed what I wanted to say but when it came to making the words appear on the page, it wouldn’t translate. Each of those times I almost came back were marked by a time of sadness, most notably when my grandad passed away - oh all the words I almost wrote to you about that! I think there is a need in me for something comforting and familiar, and this blog is a time capsule from a period in my life where many of my happiest memories lie and where it felt like a time of youthful beginnings with future plans stretched out ahead of me and my family.

So much has changed since those years, some good, some bad, some just a neutral ‘different’. I completed my degree earning a 2.1 in English Literature, I walked that stage and collected my certificate with my family watching and it felt good, I returned to work as a school secretary (slightly earlier than originally planned), my Smaller Person started school, and then my Grandad passed away; he never saw the new bigger house we moved to and the beautiful garden that we could have used his expertise to learn how to care for; the Small Person started secondary school, she had a terrible first year with broken friendships and her confidence took a real hard knock; my Nan passed away almost two years to the day of my Grandad; she was never the same without him; our home life became more hectic as the Small People grew and filled their time with homework, school and extracurricular clubs so I left work again, we grew, we became more financially secure, we succeeded, we laughed, and then my mother in law unexpectedly had a massive stroke and eventually passed away after fighting hard for over 10 weeks in hospital. Full stop. This feels like a good place for a full stop, because that’s what it felt like: a full stop on the type of life we led before. Her death left us at the top of that branch of the family tree, no other relative higher up on the chain of hierarchy to take charge, make arrangements, deal with paperwork, and it left us responsible for making sure Mr Bogert’s disabled sister is looked after. Six months after her death we were slowly adjusting to our new role, still learning, still processing, still trying to find the best way through, and then the Small Person began suffering with intense back pain and in a whirlwind two weeks she was diagnosed with Leukaemia. It felt like such a cruel blow.

I’m not sure how much of that younger me remains, certainly a good portion; I believe we all remain essentially the same at our hearts. But I am also very aware I’m not wholly the same. We all grow with time, we are the experiences we’ve lived and the lessons we’ve learned and we’re shaped by the memories we’ve made, good and bad. I think as you grow older you collect sadness along the way, it’s impossible to avoid, and you carry the sadness with you, not in a way that overwhelms you (at least hopefully not) but in a way that you learn to live with and that colours your being from that time onward. 37 year old me is more careful with her words, she is simultaneously more patient and compassionate to those around her and yet less patient and tolerant when it comes to disorganisation or insincerity. She knows more about who she is, doesn't necessary like every part of her character, but accepts herself and those flaws. I can think of describing it in no other way than she is simply older, perhaps, finally a proper grown up? I think maybe the fire, imagination and enthusiasm that 30 year old me possessed is more dilute; there is less time and energy to nurture those traits.

I need to be absolutely clear, my life is not all doom and gloom; we are going through a particularly trying time, but there is still a huge amount of good in it and plenty of laughter. (You don’t need to call anyone!) I am not walking around in a continually depressed state, but I am acknowledging that a lot has happened to us these past 7 years and there is likely a lot more to come, but in that time we’ve discovered we’re strong, that our children are amazing, and somehow that sometimes makes you feel invincible. Sometimes. We’ve also seen more kindness across those years, particularly in the last 12 months, than we had seen in any of our easier lifetimes, and that feels good. Those days when we’re not feeling invincible there’s always somebody else there to hold us up. It inspires more kindness in me.

One thing that has always been a constant is my crafting, much like this familiar space, when I have felt the need for something comforting I have crafted. It’s like my me-time medicine. It distracted me when I couldn’t get my Grandad out of my head, it helped me feel closer to my Nan when she died as she was the one who taught me many of my skills, it helped give me control when my mother in law passed and I made sure to create beautiful orders of service for the funeral that matched the colourful person she was, and it’s helped me pass countless hours in hospital sitting by my biggest baby’s bedside watching her become more ill, then well, then ill again. I’d like to record it all again, my creations and the ups and downs of the Wishes house. I hope I can keep finding the words.