The title grabbed me like octopus tentacles around the neck… ‘Here Comes The Light’. How good it would be, I thought, if I could write an entry that reflected this title. Then I looked up again, and the light that had spread its shard ever so thinly across the mountain, was gone. So shortly lived. The octopus released me, unraveled itself and with a sad sort of swagger, slid quietly away. What I thought was going to be an exciting adventure of word and memory was not to be. Back to reality, back to the shadows of day.
On the bright side, I thought (and not to create a “light” pun), at least I saw it. At least, if only for a moment, I caught a glimpse of the light. But not only that, I recognised it.
Recognition is often the first part of seeing.
And for me to recognise the light, in light of things (these puns are too tempting), was a pretty big deal.
They say that grief is like a heavy black cloak that covers you head to foot. Actually, I’ve not heard anyone say that, but that is the cliché. And yes, it’s true, there is a sort of darkness that pastes itself upon your skin, a tar like substance, so inseparable that you wonder if it has become you. Everyone else walks around, seemingly, painted with iridescent, almost glow in the dark paint compared to how you feel!! And this comparison, true or not, only makes the feeling worse.
Will I ever feel normal again?
Will I ever really live again?
It’s been nearly a year since Dad died and these are still my predominant thoughts. I don’t know the answers and I can’t figure them out either. They have to just come, like sunlight on a mountain, they will have to break through the clouds and make themselves known. At least now, I think I’ve moved so far as to be able to recognise the faint glow amongst the trees.
(PHOTO: The above photo was taken by my Dad. I remember him coming inside one morning and telling me he had just captured the most amazing sunlight coming through the trees in our backyard. He was quite excited. But alas, we had to wait to see it…film.)