What a difference a day makes
Yesterday I felt happy to be alive, the sun was out in all its splendor on an October day. Shining bright on the sea at Chesil beach. We walked together hand in hand, our feet almost in unison crunching across the shingle.
Stopped for a coffee outside the cafe and sat on the bench as the sun’s rays continued to warm us. We watched the world go slowly by and the mackerel fisherman out in number. Keen to catch those striped blue and silvery wonders. Heavenly, so lucky.
Today it’s like someone has turned a switch and the light has gone off in my head. John was out early and the security lamp shone through the window and cast shadows of leaves dancing on the photo frame in the bedroom where I lay. A collage of our family photos.
Grief hit me
A sound like no other escaped with the feeling that my insides were being pulled out through my mouth. I could hardly breathe through the tears. Utterly bereft. Again I asked why? But again no answer came. My young man, my child, my baby captured on camera. Never anymore. Why today do I feel so distraught? I have known for a long time that nothing, nothing can change the cause of my pain. The constant longing and loss.
Time’s a healer so they say. They’re having a laugh, all lies. Time just lays a new fragile skin over the wound but it’s so paper thin and opened easily by some sight, some sound, some memory. Fresh once more, bright red and searing.
Memories. Nothing tangible. Just emptiness, a bottomless void.
What a difference a day makes.
Kerina Toates. October 2015. In Memory of my son Matthew.