I was recently reading a book about the colours in our life and I thought of my friendship as that soft yellow that reminds you of sunshine before the heat of the day, that delicate yellow that reminds you of the light filtered through the trees under which you read a book as a child. Old friendships are that soft sunset pink. I sit with my friends that are closer to ninety than to eighty who I have known for many years and see those sunlit days, the last few months and even years seem to glow with that same delicate pink.
From time to time I get fanciful, I live by myself so my thoughts are my own. I think as a creative person I need to do that. I am not artistic, I do a lot of handicraft but not that well, my crocheting and knitting would never win a prize though my knee rugs are always welcomed by the nursing homes I donate them to, or maybe they are just too polite to say “not wanted”? I also maintain a couple of blogs, here on Widowed Village and one on Strokenet that I have been writing since 2005. Blogging has always helped me to sort my feelings about life out.
Of course my mind is often filled with the mundane, the must do list, the list for today, the list for this morning. I need to be practical to keep the house clean, the garden blooming, the friends and family notified of what is going on in my life. It is important to keep friendships up to date, I made that mistake when I looked after Ray full-time, of letting friendships lapse and once they lapse you never get them back again. Now I do remember to phone or email or send a message on Facebook to those who are important in my life.
I need to be practical about my commitments, the work I do in the church, the volunteering I do in the community. I know how bad it is when someone doesn't turn up for their turn on the roster or complete a job that they have promised to do and I don't wish to have that kind of reputation. I think in the last three years I have become that reliable, dependable sort of person again. I take on too much sometimes and then have to decide what the priorities are in my life but we all have to do that.
There are blue sky days, days when the sunshine appears after days of rain. Ray's favourite colour was blue, he looked good in blue and he had blue eyes, that eye colour has been passed on to three of our six grandchildren. It is lovely to see them taking on some of his characteristics and some of the grandchildren do have my quirky sense of humour. How good it is to see those positive attributes passed on. My blue sky days can be spent alone too, I love to read outside on my verandah and at the moment as Spring is approaching see so many birds preparing nests and looking towards new life. Any day is a good day this time of the year if it is lived under a blue sky.
But there are brighter colours that come into our lives like rainbows, and make wonderful memories of what always seem like bright sunny days whatever the weather, when we go out with friends or family or that one good friend who always makes you laugh. I have good friends like that and their reappearance in my life makes me happy for days. The memories of our time together, however long or short it may be lingers long after they have gone again. I wish I could gather my friends in a small village and have the power to visit them when ever I wanted. Sadly my friendships span continents and distance defeats me on that closeness.
And occasionally there are those red letter days when your heart hurts because you are so happy, family gatherings, births, marriages, celebrations of all kinds, the ones you have in your photo albums and in your heart. How I wish they would record on my brain so I could replay them like You Tube clips but instead I just lived them, never thinking that they would not just be repeated for the rest of my life but so many of those who are dear to me are now gone, or maybe just gone from my life. Not all friendships last forever.
During my time as a caregiver to Ray I had a lot of grey and black days. The falls, illnesses, set-backs of further strokes or broken bones or infections and the long hospitalizations kept the happiness at bay, or seemed to anyway. We did have good times but they were interspersed with some really bad times. My time for a while after his death were filled with the dove greys and pale colours of mourning. For far too long the bright colours seemed to be absent in my life . But now they are back and I love the difference.
May your life too have the colours restored to it. May you have more blue sky days than grey days and find your own peace.