Wednesday, 13 March 2013


It has been bitterly cold as of late; unbearably so for this time of year. The thought of coming home from work and braving the frosty air with the dog makes my heart sink. Luckily, it's the ideal climate for Huskies - Skye is in her element. Literally.

Work is busy, busy, busy. We have far too much to achieve with so few experienced staff members and the hunt has been on to find some new ones. Whether it is testament to my character or, as I prefer to think, Sod's law; I've managed to lose three of the newbies in just over a week. I was under the impression that jobs were few and far between due to the current economic crisis but it appears that people still have the luxury of being able to be picky. Go figure. Maybe it's a true reflection of the current unemployment problem - I'm willing to put money on it.

Dad has finally decided to place the family home on the market. He informed me this evening via text message - sensitivity has never been his forte. I've always known the day would come. Ever since mum died and he met his new partner Shirley, I've known that one day they would want to settle down together, to live out their old age together. I'm happy for him, truly I am as I would never want my father to grow old alone - especially after all he has been through but I can't help the niggling sadness in my heart, knowing that this is the end of yet another era. The house I grew up in that holds so many memories; all of my memories. The house that has seen us at both our highest and our lowest. The house that has shared 21 of my birthdays and 22 of my Christmases. It really is true what they say, if only walls could talk. That house is the only place on this earth that I still feel my mother's presence and though I know that moving on is long overdue, it makes me feel sick to my stomach to think that it will be sold to someone else, someone who knows nothing of those times or even cares. Of course I'll just suck it up, let him know how happy I am for him (not that it would be a lie) and try to forget about it.

For such an outwardly emotionless person, there is something about finality that really affects me. The thought that everything finally comes to an end whether it be life, work or merely our everyday experiences saddens me. It takes my breath away to think about and chokes me up so much that, on certain days, you may even see the appearance of a tear. I have to remind myself constantly that no matter how much it depresses me and weighs on my heart, this is merely a way in which beauty forces it's way through to the world and reminds us that it exists. To love is to feel and to feel is to love and if you are lucky enough to recognise this, then beauty is doing it's job.

For so long now, I have lived in the shadow of my childhood - each time I visit my father, I am transported straight back to my 16 year old self. It is a weight around my neck, knowing that I have found it impossible to move on but strangely, I find it comforting. Those weekends at home in my familiar surroundings comforts me, despite the negative energy that radiates from that place. People have described me in many ways over the years; emotionless, unfazed, tough. I'm none of those things. I am conditioned - so used to abnormal occurrences, situations that many are lucky enough to never have to experience, that I find it normal to find myself in unsettling circumstances.

For both myself and my dear father, that chapter must end and maybe this is the universe's way of recognising this. As with all of life's challenges, I'll grab my surfboard and ride the wave. You never know, I may end up washed up on some tropical island somewhere?

That would be no hardship.

Not at all.


Nessa Locke said...

There is something very sad about living in the shadow of your childhood. I cannot get my head around that. I hope, hope, hope that is not an ongoing condition for you.

Steve Reed said...

Then again, we ALL live in the shadows of our childhoods, don't we?

I think you're right to remind yourself that transience is what gives our emotional lives their "oomph." Loving and feeling and, yes, losing make having all the more worthwhile.

This is easy for me to say, however -- my mom still lives in my childhood house and my parents are both alive. I was just thinking last night that this situation will not continue indefinitely. You've reminded me to treasure the "having" while I still have.

Mikey F. said...

Indeed we all live in the shadows of our childhoods. They dictate a lot of our behaviour. I'm now, because of my condition, back with my parents, and sometimes it feels like I haven't reall left that childhood.

One has to remind himself to go on, treasure the memories foreverd, and be able to let go.