For now, I think I’ll leave it that way, but I will touch upon something of my past in saying that the last couple of years have been, at times, incredibly difficult for a host of reasons, not least of which has been the need to somehow adapt to having my children with me for only half of each week. The nights I stay in our house alone are often spent trying to sleep in the almost tangible stillness. A stillness that seems to somehow dissipate when I know that those two little bodies, breathing softly and often covered in a little layer of sweat as they snuggle under their duvets, are just a few inches from me on the other side of my bedroom wall.
This life isn’t one that I would have chosen for us. My marriage, whilst not perfect in every way, was one that I believed to be solid, and I’d reached a stage in my life where I loved to be home, to do those simple things that we all have to do just to keep things going day to day. When that ended, it hit me harder than I imagined anything could, and quite a few months living on vodka and tranquilisers are certainly testament to the frailty that’s to be found even in those of us who think we somehow possess superhuman strength.
Well, a lot of things have happened in those two years, and my life now is very different, and for the most part as happy as I could ever have hoped it would be. Saying goodbye to my children on Christmas day, though, and watching them leave knowing that this Christmas – and all the others from now on – is one that I’ll only share a part of with them, still hurts, and always will. So, I’m dedicating this post in the same way as I’ve dedicated my life… to my children, and their happiness, not just over Christmas, but always. They don’t define who I am, but they do represent everything that’s important to me, and the main reason that I’m proud of the person that I've grown to be. Far from perfect, but at least heading in the right direction.
I’ll try to keep track of all the blogs I normally read over the next couple of days, but I know it’ll be difficult, so I’ll take this opportunity to wish everyone out there a really wonderful holiday, and sign off with an extract from The Little Book of Buddhism, written by none other than the Dalai Lama, and given to me as a present by a woman with whom I very nearly had something quite special, and might have done had our lives been a little more aligned than they proved to be…
A blossoming tree becomes bare and stripped in autumn. Beauty changes into ugliness, youth into old age, and fault into virtue. Things do not remain the same and nothing really exists. Thus appearances and emptiness exist simultaneously.
Thanks for the lovely comments, everyone