Good Grief 169

Still life .... here I am ....
... many interpretations
Reflecting on the week that was
Reflecting on the life that was
Reflecting on the lives that are.
And thinking of gaze.
Another heavy work week.
I often want to take a photo of the people I see and wonder what it is that I am seeing and what it is that they see. What we see inwardly, what we see outwardly, what we see of the other, what we see of the other in ourselves and vice versa, what we see of each other and where we meet, somewhere in the middle, wherever and whatever that ground may be ... always shifting and moving.
I have been thinking of someone that I saw this week, his slightly mesmerising elfin features and large brown eyes that looked so lost and depressed and so sad in one so young. I felt that I recognised something of that look of alienation and felt little difference across the generations. There is already that look that says 'is it worth it, is it worth this feeling of pain?'
I am glad I wasn't challenged with the question, 'if you went back to your 18 year old self, would you say to them that it was worth keeping going?'

I would be tempted to say that I am disappointed in myself ....
Disappointed that I am not more of an adult
Disappointed that I am not more of a woman
Disappointed and ashamed that I am not a mother
Disappointed that I am not more of a human being.

Many, many years ago my father made me a badge.
It said, 'Try Anything, Do Your Best, Be Cheerful'.
It's a perfectly reasonable aspiration and message to pass on to a child.
He was a complex, driven man.

I write these things because they are part of me. I know they are not so helpful but there is little point denying them. I have lived with them in various ways and with varying levels of recognition and understanding for many years.

But this is my life as it is. This still life is me. It is the light cast on the windowsill that illuminates the moment. Here it is. This is it. It is a solitary room in the UK that was shared by husband and wife, approaching the 4th anniversary of his death, it looks out on a lovely green roof of mosses and sedums, it is a mess of dust and books and notebooks that have been untouched for ages and a stone with little stones that he collected from around a remote Roman site in Italy that we visited years ago. I miss him. The pain and emptiness 4 years on seems little changed really. It just gets harder to work out what it is exactly and self criticism can creep in of the 'get on with it'-variety and the 'poor me' variety. I don't like it, it's not an attractive trait but it is there.

I got up.
I was brushing my teeth at the back door looking out at the sun on the garden.
The neighbours in the second home next door were in their garden, over for the bank holiday weekend.
I decided to step out into the sun in my dressing gown, still brushing my teeth - mid-morning, thinking 'so what' .... I waved and called out 'morning'!
'What  a great way to brush your teeth', she said.
'Indeed it is', I replied.
This is it. This is me.
Still life. Just as it is.