Wednesday, 20 May 2009

Losing sight of him

It has been a hectic couple of weeks with too much work and not enough sleep, which probably goes some way to explaining why I have been feeling so maudlin. One of the joys of being a freelance is that you have to take the work when it comes, which can make it hard to plan and means that anything non-urgent sometimes has to be put on the back burner for a while.

When I started back to work in late January, the assignments initially came in very slowly, amounting to at most a couple of days every week. I felt I could more or less keep on top of everything else I needed to do. But now I have to factor in a full week of desk time, I have been feeling totally overwhelmed. Keeping all the plates spinning has been mentally and physically exhausting, and has left very little time over to grieve and to think about R.

So it has been a few weeks since I last visited his grave. When I arrived this morning I could see that a lot had changed. The daffodils had long since been replaced by bluebells, and even those were on the wane. The grass in the field was growing in earnest and the wild flowers were really starting to put on a show.

It was beautiful. Just as I imagined it would look when he was buried.

What I hadn't taken into account, however, was how difficult it would be to find his grave. With the grass grown up, his stone marker had entirely disappeared.

For some reason, this sent me into a right old tizzy. It wasn't good enough just to be near him, I needed to stand in my usual spot beside his marker. So I stumbled around the hillside for several minutes working myself up into a panic. Even as I was doing it, I was trying to tell myself to not to be so daft and to calm down - he hadn't gone anywhere - but it didn't work. With relief I eventually found the plot corner marker and was able to pace my way to his grave from it.

There, hidden in the long grass, was his little stone with the number on it. The sense of peace was almost overwhelming and I felt all the panic, tiredness and worries of the previous weeks evaporate in the weak sunshine. I off-loaded everything that was on my mind, enjoyed the view for a while and then left, ready to face the world and all it could throw at me once more.

Even Moose behaved himself this time!


  1. What a beautiful setting. I'm so glad you found some peace.



  2. Yes, a beautifully wonderful spot. I lift up my eyes to the hills (and all that).