Riding the wave

"How are you doing?"

How to answer.

OK. Up and down. Just surfing the wave.

Perhaps the last of these is closest to the truth. From the early days when I could barely stand upright on my board for a few minutes, let alone any longer, I now see that I have come a long way.

The view from upright on my board isn't bad. I can see the sun shining and the little puffy white clouds. There are birds flying in the sky, people with smiling faces a long way off on the beach. In these brief moments with the wind in my hair and salt spray on my face, I remember just how great it was to be alive and think, "I can do this. I really can do it."

Every now and again an extra-large wave catches me unawares, unceremoniously dumping me into the water, with a noseful of water and arms and legs flailing in an undignified fashion. Some days I can laugh at myself and climb back on the board. On others I need to sneak onto the beach, dig a large hole in the sand and hide there until the world has gone home.

The strange thing is that I can feel these waves building up behind me, but don't seem to have the capacity to take evasive action. There is a Significant Day coming up and it appears to have triggered the flashbacks that I thought I finally had under control. The swell of emotion is growing and no amount of positive thinking seems to help. I just know that soon I am going to find myself soaking wet having just received a seawater enema.

I really want to understand this "thing". I want to enjoy the life that stretches out in front of me. I don't want to - no! I won't be defeated by the utter crap that is R's death.

But sometimes it is hard getting back on the board.