Respectfully, gratefully, 51

Today's my birthday.
I've joked a bit about not acknowledging it because the last year has been so difficult, but I guess that's in turn rattled around my subconscious, didn't hold true and eventually I've felt a need to redress it. As is often my way I went for a wander up high in Riggindale, found a sun-warmed rock, paused and pondered, found an acceptance of a more honest truth.
We went to bed last night with tears in our hearts having watched the last episode of the brilliant It's a Sin. For us, like many of our generation, its been a poignant remembrance. It brought back memories made fond by the passing of time of so many beautiful happy hedonistic boys that we spent the end of the 80's and the turn into the 90's dancing the night away with in the bars and clubs of Manchester. So often they were there every weekend next to us and then just gone, their absence so seldom acknowledged to keep at bay the fear of knowing why. Gone home to hide, gone home to slip away, just gone. 
This beautiful timely drama has reminded me just how badly so many many people were let down and has taken me full circle back to the reason I first became a Samaritan, has made me feel the losses of this latest virus all the more.

And now in the middle of another pandemic I've caught myself so nearly losing the gratitude for every moment we have in this fleeting thing. A gratitude that the loss of so many demands, a foolish near wishing away of that which they've had stolen. Not good.

This last year I've written a book I now have to fathom how to be brave enough to share, built a sanctuary at the bottom of the garden that is still making me smile, qualified as a counsellor, returned to the helpline late in the night, found new ways to connect with those I love.
 More than that though, simpler than that;  I, and you if you're reading this, have survived when so many have not. Something well worth giving thanks for.