Good Grief 11

Today was a pretty relentlessly miserable day and reflected by the endless rain that set in. Some days the emotional 'weather' sets in and becomes hard to shift. This was one of those days. They maybe start fragile, a poor night's sleep, and in spite of efforts to get underway the baseline misery is stubbornly lodged, unmoving, and then successive things seem to pile in on the back of each other and the trickle becomes a torrent and it can be hard to stop the crying. The sheer effort of staying in the game, of engaging with this world that has so little light left in it becomes something of a battle. A battle that I have no interest in fighting. The very word 'battle' suggests energy, motivation, a desired object or outcome, none of which apply in this not-so-brave new world. Anyway, I stuck it out for some obscure reason, all the little triggers and mines went off and were survived, sort of. There was no retreat, just a limping off the stage at the end of the day ... and then finally there was a sense of a profound comfort from the feeling of the few points of connection that I was able to draw upon both during and at the end of the day. The only points where I feel there is some bridging of the parallel worlds that I seem to inhabit. Mr Forster was right but his 'only connect' is put under the severest of tests at these times and grief works hard to alienate us from everything and everyone. It feels like living in the middle of the battle between life and death that plays out everyday exhaustingly and relentlessly. I loved seeing these lambs sheltering as I drove back today and really felt that sense of comfort and rest in the presence of another. A drop of comfort in endless darkness. And drops can be vast.