No Place Like Home

It’s easier for me to get my head around the energy of Colin being sucked up into the powerful wonder of nature. Standing at the top of Ben A’an on our wedding anniversary, on ‘our hill’ and the place where his ashes are scattered, amongst the swirling, misty clouds, it wasn’t hard to feel him close to me. A whisper in the wind brought back another time. A time when a chilly September sun shone upon us as we sheltered from the gusty wind behind some rocks, eating ham sandwiches, swigging diet coke and reading our books while watching the other hill climbers take in the view we’d already soaked up before settling down to lie shoulder to shoulder. Aptly Col was reading Nigel Tranter and of course it was a ridiculously large book to have had in our already stappit rucksack…but that was ‘just him’. Now back in 2014, standing there on our sixth wedding anniversary, with Cameron a wee bit off because he’s giving me some space to just be, I could imagine col’s voice as a posh whisper in the misty swirl just saying, ‘I’m here, I’ll always be here sweetheart’. The view that greeted Cameron and I was non existent but after I had my wee moment sensing the energy of Col through the surroundings, the heather, the craggy rocks and the feeling of being as close to the top of the world as I would be that day, the clouds parted, just enough, so that I could see the view that we had once shared from our reading perch. And I felt his presence through me and through the memories and it felt peaceful there all wrapped up in the cloud, me and Cameron, with Col giving us our blessing to move on while remembering. It was like different times and dimensions being bent to bring the past and the future together. So yes I can understand that sense that nature has the strength and power to bring humans like me back in touch with our spiritual senses.
What is less easy to comprehend is why I feel Col so much through inert bricks and mortar. I didn’t know stone could hold so much. Of course visiting the church we married in was going to conjure up memories and rake up the past. But all who know me will know I have always been a picker of scabs so in my bereavement journey I seem to keep testing myself by revisting special places to me and Col just to pick at my grief. Perhaps I do it to check out it’s not been a horrible mistake and here he is, he has been hiding out in one of these significant places all along waiting to be found. Or maybe I just want to see if there is some sign that he is around me and the girls just the way I try to tell myself he is everyday. And as ever there was no physical sign he was there in that church building that day but, just like at the top of Ben A’an, I felt him nearby and I could almost feel his hand in mine and of course his scraggy nail as he rubs it against my palm (that used to drive me mad). I feel his twinkly eyes upon me as I retrace my steps down the aisle. And it soothes me to know or, some might say, imagine, that the man I fell head over heels in love with and married still loves me from wherever his spirit is and however his spirit can.
There is a flip side to this searching for spiritual closeness to Col in cement and stone. I am reletting our house in London. The house we hunted for together. The home we created for us and our girls. Visiting that house and seeing it lived in by strangers is less like picking at my grief scab and more like ripping off the whole first three layers of my epidermis. Our home. Our hopes and our dreams were all tied up in those bricks and now I keep being told to think of it as technically an investment and no longer a home and, and, and that is so bloody hard to do. He’s everywhere but so am I. The old me and the old him and we’re unaware that life can throw such spanners as death that will separate us as we were forever and ever. And, well, with all this whirling around in my head you’d think when scrolling through the Virgin TV menu yesterday evening I would have avoided choosing to watch an episode of Location, Location, Location, with Kirsty and Phil using their expertise to find the perfect homes for happy couples with their whole happy lives ahead of them, in several of the areas Col and I were considering for our next life stage. Fool. Thank God for Cameron and thank God for Col who simply must have sent Cameron my way. Love you both. xx


2 Replies to “No Place Like Home”

  1. Beautifully written and heart breaking. I had to go to hospital with my little son last weekend (only a quick check-up) but that place hold so many memories. Memories of his troubled birth and how my husband was a pillar of strength for me, and then, seven months later the beginning of the end of my husband. Like picking at the scab I allow my thoughts to wonder back to those memories until something jumps up and I receive a blow to the gut. Scabs off.

  2. Your words sent a chill down my spine. My daughter is in the same position as you were in, I hope she will eventually find some peace of mind.
    God Bless You & Be Happy

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