Strange Notations From a Laborious Life

Sitting on a stool in my dining room as the dull morning light brightens the day and spreads through the house, I ponder the silence and think about the life that was and the life that should have been. I feel calmer this morning. More at peace. I’m still disbelieving. I can still picture Linda in her armchair by the window. I still remember her eating her breakfast and her stare into the abyss in the last months that she would hold for minutes. She got quite introspective towards the end. Zany, loud, funny Linda slipped away quietly, never to return. It was a little jarring. Those who knew her would know what I mean.

Her last moments haunt me. Waking up after hours of nothing and motioning us to her. Saying goodbye. What was she feeling in that moment? A whole wonderful life coming to an end far too soon and she must have felt it? What runs through the head of a person when death finally catches them? What will my thoughts be when my turn comes, when that last twinkle reaches me? It’s the only thing in life we can be sure will happen.

I read an essay by a British doctor called Sophie Olszowskie yesterday. She lost her husband and the comfortable life she lived with him in 2021. She wrote, and I quote, ” I’m left behind in a place so beautiful it hurts.” It’s a quote I can relate to. She also wrote, “I survive because I have him, not because I lost him.” Yes.

“His presence runs alongside his absence, at the best of times, far beyond memories.”

I wish I’d written it!

Linda was the most decent and honest person I ever met. I won’t say she never said a bad word about anyone, that would be stretching the truth, but she never knowingly did anything wrong, never willingly hurt anyone. She had a breadth and depth of character that was deep and wide. She could be a handful. But she loved me so much, I often couldn’t understand it. It sustains me today. And the depth of feeling that soaks me today leaves me knowing the feeling was mutual. What a precious gift to have had. I will hold onto it forever.

I’m bent but not broken, bloodied but unbowed.

So, on this grey Saturday morning, life moves on.

Strange Notations from a Laborious Life is 15 years old this year. I initially had ideas of doing some serious writing, but it devolved into a hobby pretty much. A space to talk without having to interact face to face. Generally, I left out family and politics although it did filter into a few posts. I griped about Australia Post and daresay would have been raked over the coals if anyone in charge at the Canberra Mail Centre had a mind to read it. I’ve talked about cycling, history, places I’ve been. Nothing of consequence to anyone else but a space that is mine and can be left and read long after I’ve gone. A piece of human history from this point in the 21st century that someone might find useful someday.

Blogs usually die. The internet is filled with them, languishing lonely and unkept in every space on the net. It nearly happened to this one. But Linda gave it life again. Her journey, our journey was the spark that revitalised it and with that has returned some passion for it.

I hope you don’t mind me writing about Linda. She will obviously continue to be in my mind and create opportunities for me to write. My journey through grief continues. And she remains with me, now and forever.

My life will move on, and I hope you might continue to drop in when the blog finally returns to mundane, everyday observations of my not so laborious life.

I’m bent, not broken, bloodied but unbowed.

Until next time.