Tag: love

Testing my Resilience

lizaaitken

I was saying the other day how I was resilient, how I felt resilience came from how you coped with past experiences.  An ability to put yourself outside of a situation and not feel the pain of it, recognise the trauma but protect yourself from it.  I wrote it down, it was going to be included in one of my stories.

‘What about resilience, do we develop it here on earth or is this something we bring with us, learnt from the many challenges of the paths we have walked before. What is natural resilience anyway, I’m resilient but I know I have achieved this through my own experiences. I am able to deal with some traumatic situations by removing myself from the pain of them. Or am I still kidding myself, will the pain slap me around the face one day’.

You didn’t come home last night after work.  That’s okay you’re young and probably having fun, out straight from work on a Saturday night and forgot yourself.  I would have done the same myself at 25.  I texted you in the evening to say that I was going on Skype, so be quiet if you came in, you didn’t disturb me.

I went to bed at midnight and left the light on in the hall for you.  If you had a few drinks I wanted to be sure you were safe and would not trip on the stairs.  I do this when you’re late, I get up in the morning and you have turned it off and your bedroom door is closed.

The light was still on, the door is open, you’re not home.

I’m telling myself that you’re fine, you probably stayed at Ruby’s and as it was late didn’t want to wake me.  I have three hours until you’re due in work and then you will call.  Why didn’t you text, I could have found it when I woke.  What about email, you know I check them on my phone.

I probably seem over protective but I’m not, I want you to have fun.  It’s just that you have never done this before, you always think of other people, well me anyway.  You are considerate, you think of my feelings.  Your boss tells me every time I see him how well brought up you are, what manners you have.  Well, that is all down to you my lovely, you’re a natural.  That’s why I’m starting to panic, just a little bit.

I know you’re fine really and I’m letting my imagination run away with me.  If you were not, someone would have let me know.  I think of how they can check your wallet, they find out where you live from your bankcards.  What if you lost your wallet, what if you’re unconscious?  It’s okay, I just realised Ruby would be able to tell anyone if you were hurt.  But what if you’re not with her, maybe I just assumed it was her you were with, you might have been alone.

I texted you again half an hour ago, I didn’t phone in case you’re still sleeping.  Hurry up and wake up darling, put my mind at ease.

I know life is full of challenges, but you hope they lessen a bit as you learn form them.  I couldn’t cope if you were hurt, you’re my Achilles Heel darling.  I would go mad without you in my life.  What am I saying you’re probably just hung over, thoughtless, selfish, but I know you’re not.  I think about that some more, you can be selfish when you let me pick up after you, which is good today, and it’s how I want it to be.  I want to think you are just uncaring, no I don’t, I just want to know you are all right.

It is quiet in town today, apart from the gulls screeching over the roofs.  I’m aware my ears are tuned to the street, listening for footsteps in case you pop home to change.

I can’t do anything, I’m sitting here in my dressing gown waiting for you to make the next move.  If I get in the shower you might call, the police might knock on the door, the hospital might call.  Time is trickling by today, hurry up and help the hands of the clock get back to normal.

I’m not really as resilient as I thought, nowhere near it.  I’m a mother who wants to know if her boy is okay.

The Receptionist

lizaaitken

The receptionist hated her job with every atom in her body.  She hated the dreariness of the days, the sadness of the people who used the service and the total disinterest of the people who were supposed to be providing it.  It was a joke that the organization she worked for supposedly provided therapeutic services in the community.  If anyone needed therapy around here, it was her.

She was tied to the horrid job though, and probably for all eternity.  The rent needed to be paid and the credit card bills wouldn’t go away and she really needed those holidays to warm her bones.  If only she had chosen anther direction when she was at school, not hung out around the bike sheds smoking with the boys and stuck her nose in a book instead.

What else could she do she wondered for the fifty-millionth time.  She had made many of those life decision lists that were recommended on the internet, she liked baking cakes, but everyone could bake cakes, she liked to dance (poorly), she liked to cook, she liked animals, what was clear was that she liked nothing that would ever make her any money.  There must surely be something she hadn’t thought of, she just needed to find it.

Travelling to work this morning on the train, with the same blank faces she saw every day she again realised she was dying.  Not dying from a terminal illness or anything, just dying a little bit more everyday in her boring job.  The same old monotony, day in, day out, the rest of her life.  What did her life, as she was leading it have to say for itself, what did it say about her.

She checked her purse to make sure she had the lottery ticket, it was the only way out of here at the moment, that is until her prince comes along if he ever realises she is waiting.

She prayed again to St Jude, saint of hopeless causes to take pity on her.  Then, to be extra sure to St Anthony, the finder of things, to find her a way out of here, hopefully to somewhere warm and St Christopher who might help with that too.

Who else was there up there that could possibly help?  She thought of Arch Angel Michael, he had influence she had heard, she would give him a try, but how, she would need to look that one up.  She opened a browser and typed in his name finding a list of sites dedicated to him immediately.  It appeared all you needed to do was ask him to be by your side, help with negativity and believe he was there.  You could also ask him for a physical sign on earth, so you would know he was there. It was surely worth a go, she would give it a try, what did she have to loose.

The receptionist closed her eyes and followed the instructions carefully.  ‘Dear Arch Angel Michael, could you help me see my way, be with me, protect me and show me a sign that you can hear this’.  Just as she was getting in the flow of the conversation with Michael the door buzzer went off.  She pressed the intercom to enquire who was there.  ‘ Stationary delivery’, she pressed the button to release the door and let the delivery guy in to the building.

A young guy, actually a very nice looking young guy entered the reception area carrying a delivery note.  He was wearing a colbolt blue T-shirt with a company logo of what looked like a sword across the chest.  She directed him to the stationary office and went back to her desk.

A pile of letters needed to be put into envelopes and posted, she had better get on with it before lunch.  She could then head off early to the post office before going to the café in the park.  She looked up as the stationary delivery guy left the building with a wave in her direction.

At the park, she got her sandwich from the café and headed for a bench by the lake.  The sun was shining and it cast a bright glow across the water that seemed to stop just short of the bench.  As she sat, she noticed a single feather, white and fluffy and new.  She picked it up, held it aloft and then gently let it fall to the ground, watching as it span in the summer breeze.

‘Mind if I sit here’? enquired a voice, a nice, soft and gentle voice.  She looked up to see the delivery guy, sandwich in hand standing by her bench.  She smiled and moved along to make room.  She wasn’t so sure she was hungry for the egg mayonnaise sandwich now, maybe it would be best to save it for later where she didn’t have to worry about it falling down her chin.

Heading back to work after lunch, she thought about Mike.  New to town, single and drop dead gorgeous.  He was working at the stationary company as a stopgap to save for the trip around the world he intended to do with his camera.  He was an aspiring photographer and had recently been displayed in a local gallery.   He would be back on Monday with the remainder of the delivery, she must remember to wear her new shoes, and Monday couldn’t come soon enough, maybe this place wasn’t so bad.  She picked the delivery note up from the in tray she had left it earlier, ready now to unpack the boxes.  The piece of paper in her hand read Michaels’ Stationary Supplies and just below showed the delivery of a box of Arch Lever Files.

What was the name of that angel she had been talking to earlier?

For the Love of Mary

lizaaitken


The old man sits on the bench outside of the pub a sandwich left by a thoughtful stranger beside him.  This is his world, his bench and at this moment in time his very existence.  He is always there, whatever the weather and whatever the time of year.  He sits, one weary leg crossed over the other looking at the traffic on the busy road as if he might be surveying a beautiful scene and maybe to him it is.  The locals think they know him, wave and call out on passing. They leave him the odd sandwich or pack of tobacco and call him mate, although no one really knows him, where he comes from and who he was once.   The men that frequent the pub stop and talk to him on occasion, maybe while having a cigarette outside.  He welcomes the conversation but does not demand the attention, he is happy with the way things are.  Chitchat is light and flippant and it is rare that anyone really tries to understand the old gent.

He has been sleeping in the park for nearly two years now.  After Mary died he just couldn’t bring himself to stay in the house.  Not that he didn’t try, day after day he battled against the urge to run out of the door her body had been carried from.  He attempted to shop and care for himself but he had no idea how to do it as Mary had done everything for them both for over fifty years.  They had never had children, they had talked about it early on in their marriage but it never happened and as you did back then, they left it at that.  They were company enough for each other, the routine and daily rituals helped but it was the adoration that cemented them to each other for all those years.   Words were not always needed between them, they knew how each other felt, many an hour was spent sitting together in silence by the gas fire.  To live such a joyous life with the person you love is a blessing that is not given to many, he knew this and although alone in the world treasured the memory of his Mary.  He left the house on the day he realised it had changed, it was no longer their home.  The piles of dirty dishes, newspapers and flies around the rubbish had left the home beyond recognition, and if it wasn’t their home any more he wouldn’t stay.

The park was close to the house, he walked up the street sometimes to look at the boarded up and over grown home they had shared.  No one recognised him, that is if they had really ever known him in the first place being too busy to care in this busy city street.  He would stand for a moment, looking at the house, silently calling Mary’s name.  He walked into the garden once and sat with his memories, under the lilac tree turning the door key over in his hand, deep in his pocket, it was too much to bare and he left after ten short minutes.

He wore a long beard now, straggled and stained yellow with tobacco.  His once tidy department store suit hung from his body, stained and old.  An overcoat given to him by a kindly stranger outside the pub covered his shrinking frame.

They found him dead in June, on the bench outside the pub.  Kind words were said for the old man, although no one knew his name.  It was only the smell on the warm summer breeze that had alerted the bar maid to his death.  He was sitting as usual watching the traffic, a smile on his face and a picture of his Mary in his hand.  It was the anniversary of their wedding day that he died and like all those years ago at the alter, Mary was waiting for him.

My Mother’s Love

lizaaitken

Mum, I have always written in your cards that I love you with all my heart, and I do, I love you deeply with my whole being.  I want to try and explain my love for you but it’s not an easy task talking about an emotion that is invisible yet at the same time tremendously powerful.  I have not experienced life without your love so its hard to fathom what that might feel like, maybe a big empty hole, falling forever with no attachment to bind me. Thinking back, I remember you used to say to us as children ‘I love you with all my heart and I did right from the start’.  I imagined, as a small child when you said it, you meant the start of time, because that’s how big, warm and safe it felt.  When I tell you I love you it does not seem enough, those are words used by everyday people and you are not an everyday person, you are so much more.  I could write about my love and appreciation for you until there were no trees left on the earth and a mountain of paper, covering the horizon and blocking out the sun and moon, but I’m not sure I could capture the words, I’m not sure there really are words in this world.

Your very poorly now and carry so much pain and yet you are so incredibly brave, you don’t dwell on that bastard illness, you fight it with that huge spirit of yours.  When you first got ill the doctors said at that stage you had no time left, but you were never having that, and went about visualising my sister Laura and I inside your lungs with cloth caps and brooms, sweeping out all the bad, singing as we worked and by some miracle we did it, you improved.  We know that it wasn’t really a miracle, it involved the power of thought, coupled with determination, and we know really it worked because of the magic of the love we share.  You are so brave, you sing to yourself now to help you to breathe easier and make the pain go away, you tell yourself, believe and sing about how happy and lucky you are.  In my minds eye, I can see you stooped and in awful pain struggling as you walk towards Green Lane singing your little song ‘I’m so happy’, it makes me want to cry, you crazy, wonderful, beautiful woman!  You see yourself dancing at Claude’s wedding, it’s a long way off but your sheer determination might get you there.

From the day I was born I know without a shadow of a doubt, that you have loved me every moment.  I know that you think of me shortly after waking, throughout the day and last thing at night.  Your love keeps me safe, I know that you think I am special and I can never really be lonely or lost in any way with your love around me.  I can’t describe to you how wonderful it has been to be in receipt of your love, it’s like I won the lottery of life having you as my mum.  You have always put me and Laura first, there is not anything you would not give up for your girls and grandchildren, you would go to the ends of the earth and back for each of us.  We know you would genuinely die for us, that you feel our pain every bit as much as we do and would willingly carry it for us.  It is lucky for all of us that you also share our joy, and our achievements are your best achievements.

Small things give you pleasure, being with your family, being together, sharing a meal and celebrating.  I get that now and it is what is important to me too, I wish I had understood that sooner.   You have a silly way of looking at us, full of love and pride, it used to embarrass me, now I embrace it.  I am turning into you in a little way, I hear you speaking when I speak to my son sometimes but your shoes are too big for me, I could never fit into them.  If only I could be as selfless and giving as you, more spiritual and less materialistic. I am trying, as to be a fraction as good a person as you would be amazing.

You are the most giving person and you are gentle and kind, passionate and full of empathy for others.  You’re interested in people, not in a nosey way but with concern, you share the troubles and joys of others, you grieve and celebrate and above all try to understand.  Your love is as big as the world and as warm as the sun and everybody who has ever known you would agree, we know there is a lot of love for Jean!

I speak to you every day, about six times occasionally but always more than once.   We are sometimes deep and meaningful and make sense of the world, put it to rights but often we talk complete mindless rubbish.  I know how much it means to you and that talking to your girls keeps you going especially now that awful illness is taking over more and more we are your lifeline and what keeps you going.  Mum, I have been meaning to say, you must change that voice mail message, I will help.

I’m frightened sometimes mum, I’m frightened of losing you, of not hearing your voice anymore of not making you laugh.  You might have years left, your spirit is still young, but I don’t want to leave it at that without telling you how special you are and how much you have given me.  I know that one day you will leave me for a while but you will always be there too, it’s what we believe and we will still talk, I’m absolutely sure of it.  You will just be in the next room, the door to that room will not be immediately accessible to me and take me some time to find, but I will find it and you will be waiting there for me.

Your love grows and spreads everywhere, you gave me and taught me empathy and I only work with troubled children now because of the understanding I got from you.  You showed me how to reach out to others, really listen and be interested enough to do something to help.  How to love, care, communicate and understand the needs of others, understanding the troubles and be there.  I’m sure your love is catching and I hope everybody comes down with it.  I am blessed to have you as my mum, the children I have worked with have benefitted in a small way because you are my mum.

Your beauty has no comparison in this world, the first sunrise, the deepest colour, the saddest song, and the brightest flower all diminish in your shadow.   I was right, there are not words to tell you how I feel, it’s big and warm and makes me cry and laugh at the same time.  I won the lottery that’s for sure, I probably jumped a few lifetimes with what you have managed to teach me and the world is a better place for having you in it.

I know that for as long as I live and long after I will be loved by you, and that love comes back at you mum, a million times.

Thank you mum