An Ode to Joy

I wake, fragments of my dream swirling in my head. I want to capture it before it escapes, and there it is: crockery, chocolates, my family and an odd feeling of frustration and discomfort.

Later I realise the images have spiralled into my mind as the anniversary nears. No, not the 10 year anniversary of the Christchurch quakes, though they fall on the same day. Mine is less public, a private commemoration after a year of great loss. Grief is not what I thought it was, and I wonder why it’s taken me so long to understand this.

Anniversaries are tough, the first the toughest. Each year, a little less, with perspective, with gratitude. We fight to remember, and yet we begin to forget. At times, grief hits us with a force greater than gravity, the sternum painfully radiating the hurt. Other days, we are calm and still, a peace descending. But anniversaries - yes, anniversaries are tough.

She makes suggestions, my friend, an experienced celebrant, a woman of compassion and practicality. Plant some flowers and watch them bloom, or light a candle, the warm  glow filling the darkness in your heart. I add to her list:

  • Play or sing a favourite song, loudly enough so the neighbours complain
  • Grab the photo album and revisit the good times, the family times, the difficult times. Laugh at the hairstyles and the fashion sense of times gone by
  • Swap stories, a glass of wine or a bottle of beer in hand. If you can’t do it in person, virtual story-telling works just as well
  • Visit the river, the beach, the mountain, the park and sit with them around you, watching and listening to sights and sounds you shared together
  • Find the book they loved, and choose a page at random, knowing they read that very passage.

I wonder, as I write the list, if I will do these things. And then I realise the dream was a harbinger, a portend: tomorrow I will drink tea from the cup, the fine china I inherited a memory so profound, so delicate, a joy to use.

  



The words of a student scribbled on the page prompt me to track down a song from my youth. The Pretenders, Hymn to Her, a beautiful melody that’s stuck on replay in my head. The tears prickle my eyes, threatening to overflow onto my cheeks, this day before the first anniversary:

And she will always carry on

Something is lost

But something is found

They will keep on speaking her name

Somethings change

Some stay the same

 

Comments

  1. Coco.Sunday, 21 February, 2021

    Sandy, may flowers bloom all around you.

    ReplyDelete
  2. AnonymousSunday, 21 February, 2021

    Thinking of you as your face the first anniversary.

    ReplyDelete

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