It is now three years. Three years today. I have been attempting to write over the past few months, only to find that life, as expected, unfolds daily. It was quite startling to realise that nearly eight months have passed since I last wrote here. Although I have been writing, the challenge has been finding the time to collect my thoughts and articulate them coherently. Reflecting on the time that has elapsed feels peculiar. As many have observed, years seem to pass in the blink of an eye, and this sentiment is especially true when it comes to children. They, and I guess we, have changed in so many ways. It seems ages ago now, but it was only less than a year ago that we were all sharing the same bed at night, a situation that was obviously required at the time as they needed comfort and security. The transition back to their own rooms has been a major change which has in turn changed them and has become another step in the continuing development of their own individual characters. They have grown and have adapted so well and I am constantly proud, and more than a little amazed, at the strength they have shown. Comfort and security are still paramount; it just manifests itself in different ways now.
Their change is inevitable and so too is my relationship with them. We have developed a routine and established rules, though these rules are neither written down nor frequently discussed—they simply exist. They are fluid by necessity, adapting as we evolve. I feel I am beginning to come to terms with the responsibilities of raising them. I remain under no illusion that there will be difficult times ahead still, as there are now, but for now, we are carving out our own path. The difficult moments that arise in the present we manage together and while I'm not sure if I am managing them correctly or even well, we get by and try to make our path as smooth as possible. Parenthood offers only one opportunity. Just one. While mistakes can be corrected or addressed over the years, the premise remains unchanged: we have one chance to do our utmost to raise them to best of our ability. One. And I am very mindful of that fact.
As I have said on numerous occasions raising two kids on your own isn't easy. Again, I don't say this for sympathy or clicks. It's just a fact. Everyday tasks for me take a considerable amount of planning and consideration. I've had to become adept at not only having to streamline my way of doing things but I need to be able to change my plans completely at times, something I do struggle with as I do like to have a plan. I can no longer afford to get stressed about the house being totally clean or whether they are getting their 5-a-day. I've, we've, had to just learn what works as we go. This way of thinking has obviously had an effect on me too. I find myself having to balance the things that affect us as a family unit and increasingly more as individuals due to their ever-developing characters. Perhaps I even overthink it sometimes, but things such as grief and grieving, time and healing, their future and simply being happy are never far from my thoughts.
When it comes to grief, I have observed that there is conflict between living in the present and keeping a connection to the past. Grief is a deeply personal experience and subtle distinctions shape the process uniquely for everyone. In my view, the primary factor influencing these differences is the concept of Moving On. I need to stress that I use the term "Moving On" broadly, encompassing a wide spectrum of meanings. For some it can simply mean a change of mind set or acceptance if you will. It can also mean moving on to the next stage of grief where the loss still hurts but less than it did. I'm sure there are extreme examples when it can even mean severing the past completely. For many any form of Moving On is inconceivable, feeling akin to a betrayal of the bond that existed, a bond that should remain unbroken. So some may find that they are never ready to move on with the next chapter of their lives or simply can't or possibly just don't want to. There is no one size fits all remedy. For me Moving On isn't about entirely putting the past behind me and forgetting all that has gone before, although personally there is more than an element of the former of the two. Moving On for me is more about acceptance. I realise that that may seem to some as being heartless and selfish but to me it is an inevitable, even necessary, consequence. I have accepted that Laura is gone. I cannot change that. While she lives in our hearts and has a certain influence on the way we do things, ultimately it is how I do things that matters now. The best way I can honour the memory of Laura isn't in mourning, regrets and sadness, but in raising the children to the best of my ability. It does me no good to dwell in that time, on this day, three years ago and I can't go back to the place I was last year when things seemed to be falling apart. I keep Laura's memory alive for the children, it is important to me that they know who she was and how much she loved them, so I will always talk to them in that way about her. She is their mam and that will never change. My version of Moving On doesn't lessen the love that once was and it's important to understand that the period of anyone's grief isn't a measure of love. Grief, like love, needs time. Maybe I am wired different but it is simply the way I have chosen to do things. I have known enough loss. It has tempered me. It has made me who I now am and who I now am is different from before. I am not afraid to say that I feel I am a better person for it.
I guess I am open for criticism, even judgment, in that respect. I get that there may be people who don't like how I do things but in essence the only one that can judge me is me and the only people I need to answer to are my kids. They are fundamentally my life, that will never change. But that investment in their wellbeing, development and future doesn't come at a price. I have come to realise that investing in them is also investing in me. The one thing that I learned from last year is that I have to live my life to help me be the driving force in theirs. Time is the same for everyone. I have concluded that making my life better enriches their lives too. I need to be happy and in turn they get the best version of me. How can I show or teach them the lessons that they have to continue living, to hold their heads high and that they can overcome even the hardest challenge, if I'm not willing to embrace that ethos myself. Bad things and setbacks happen in life and the measure is how you deal with it. If I teach my kids anything it is to understand, recognise and be proud of the inner strength they have displayed over the last few years and when they do that, I hope that they will understand that they will be able to accomplish anything.
So, the question I asked myself when I was down in The Fog was will I ever be truly happy again? It's a fairly simple question. I think everyone who has lost someone asks themselves the same question, from heartbroken teenagers to those bereaved. But then rather than asking myself will I ever be happy again, I asked instead, what is happiness? If it is just a general feeling of well-being and contentment then I'll take that every time. I'm not so naïve to believe that I can go through the rest of my life filling every day with joy and happiness but what I won't do is deny myself the opportunity to strive for that ideal. We all know that life is short. Some know this more than others. So when the universe gives you the opportunity to appreciate how precious life is then grab it with both hands. And when you have even the smallest amount of happy in your hands, open them up and share it. Fate has truly opened my eyes and given me what feels like a second chance to live, to grow, to learn, to understand grief, to embrace love and to pursue happiness.
And that is precisely what I intend to do.
“The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away." Picasso
