Futility

I am having one of those rare days when, out of the blue and for no obvious reason, everything seems pointless. Empty. Void of meaning or purpose. I saw an old man earlier, barely able to walk slowly up the street with the assistance of his walking stick, and I suddenly felt as though I … More Futility

Waiting to shatter

I feel like I might just disintegrate into shards on the next knock. Sometimes I stare into an abyss of hopelessness I know I can’t explain to anyone who hasn’t seen it for themselves. It can’t be rationalised or reasoned with. It is not measured or calm. People carry on, walk away, wait for me … More Waiting to shatter

Expressing Pain

My post on Halloween prompted the following response from a fellow blogger, WritingMS: “Why are we humans so compelled to claim the goodness of our lives, in order to try and justify our expression of sorrow or pain? I think it must be our western culture and our adherence to the ‘stiff upper lip” approach. … More Expressing Pain

Five Months

Yet another milestone today, on Halloween when the kids are excited about pumpkins and trick-or-treating, and my reflections on death are far more mournful. Five months, and a whole summer has passed since my mother’s death. Five months that seem the blink of an eye, time still frozen, yet containing enough sorrow and loss for … More Five Months

Boobs and Burlesque

Walking down to the station this morning I was feeling light and carefree. It is the first beautifully sunny day for a while, and I am wearing my mother’s summery orange dress, which she brought on holiday but never had a chance to wear as it poured with rain most of the time. I was … More Boobs and Burlesque

Anger, at last

Dirk emailed me two photographs this afternoon, saying that “Tessa had been inspired by Nan Shepherd’s book “The Living Mountain” to try and capture the clarity and sweetness of the water in streams on Skye.  These were her last two photographs (in Coirie Lagan, Cuillins) – taken perhaps three hours before she died.”