Sussex and Silence

Silence.  Not always golden, but sometimes there seems nothing much to say.  

2017 did not get off to the best start for me, with the sad news that an old friend had died after three years on the rollercoaster that is cancer.  Someone very special to us as it was through his family that I met my husband, and someone whose life has threaded through mine for well over a decade now. At 64, he was too young to die and had so much to live for.  A beautiful, loving wife and four children in their 20s. Children whose weddings he will never attend, grandchildren he will never hold and cherish, although his very close family will always hold him in their hearts.

Then there have been the usual winter bugs which strike and refuse to move on and which are still lingering now, but with the longer days and brighter sunshine (on the days we emerge from under the grey umbrella which dominates here in winter), I too am feeling brighter and hopefully recovering some of my lost energy. 

We did manage a trip to Sussex in sub-zero temperatures, enjoying an invigorating walk on Camber Sands watching the light bounce off the cold, clear water, followed by a whistle-stop tour of the ancient Cinque Port town of Rye, taking time to admire the beautiful 12th century Church of St Mary the Virgin, before driving home through the frost-bound countryside. 

St Mary the Virgin, Rye

Stained glass, St Mary the Virgin, Rye

Inspiration, Association and The Manor at Hemingford Grey

It is strange how a chain of thought can trigger events.  Life in Suffolk these last few years has been punctuated by regular trips along the A14 to visit my partner's father in Staffordshire, and we have always meant to stop off one day and visit the Manor House at Hemingford Grey, the setting for Lucy Boston's Green Knowe children's stories and one of the most romantic place names I have ever come across, but time pressures have always intervened.  I recently came across a reference to the Manor and the Green Knowe books when reading Elizabeth's blog post at Welsh Hills Again about the delights of her wood burning stove and comfort reading which struck a chord.

So it was that yesterday afternoon, a beautiful, cold, sunny early Spring day this particular wish was granted. Our trips cross-country have ended this week as the family gathered on Monday to say goodbye to John, who celebrated his 98th birthday only three short weeks ago.  A local legend, he was still driving, swimming and taking regular walks until last September and will be much missed. The end of an era for his family.  But after the tears and the laughter, the reunions and reminiscences and so very many cups of tea, we set out once more to our Suffolk home and, this time, we had time and I am so glad we did.  

We parked the car in the pretty village street and walked a short distance along the banks of the River Ouse, opened the gate into the Manor garden and walked down the path between the clipped yew hedges towards this beautiful house, Green Knowe,  the oldest continuously occupied house in England and every bit as enchanting as I had hoped.  The house is only open by prior arrangement or for special events, but the garden was open and, having been greeted by the owner, we had it all to ourselves and spent a happy hour exploring, admiring the intense vivid blue carpet of chionodoxa intermingled with late snowdrops, winter aconites, primroses and hellebores.  Lovely even at this time of the year, it will be stunning in the summer when the roses are out and we must visit again, many more times I hope.  And what a wonderful place to come and remember John as now this place will always be associated with him in our hearts.  

Rest in Peace.

Sadness

Relentless rain is falling today and I am feeling sad.  End of summer sad, back to reality sad but mostly sad for my father-in-law.  We should have been in Wales with him this week, enjoying a family get-together, but a stroke has intervened and taken his independence away from him.  At 97 he was doing so well, driving himself around locally, swimming regularly and having some social life. My partner is with him now, trying to sort out his end-of-life care, always a difficult and fraught time as I know only too well, having been there so recently with my Mum.

So, I'm thinking of him now and hoping that things will come together for him this week, that he can leave hospital and move into the next, the final stage of his long, long life.  Hoping that we can all somehow make it as easy as possible for him.

Nostalgia

"Footfalls echo in the memory 

Down the passage we did not take 

Towards the door we never opened

Into the rose garden

My words echo thus

In your mind"

Burnt Norton - T S Eliot

We drove past my old home the other day, on a brief visit to Kent, and stopped for a moment in the road outside. A house I once lived in, a home that once was mine, a garden I once loved, an orchard where children played and a life that fitted me like a glove; a door that once was open to me, now closed for ever.

It is a strange thing, to so utterly possess a house, to sweep through the white five bar gate and park my car in the drive outside, put my key in the latch and go inside, to find my life laid out there, my possessions just as I left them, my pets waiting for me, my family coming and going, to wander outside, sit and have a cup of coffee making plans for my day, answer the telephone, put a wash on, go for a walk.  Ordinary, everyday things. And then one day it's finished. Someone else has the keys.  I am a trespasser now and my life has moved elsewhere.

Drive on by, it's not my home anymore.  It exists only in my mind.

The Other Woman

The words don't come any more. They don't flow, help me paint the pictures in my head, rummage through the corners of my mind.

There are so many versions of my son's wedding day, so many ways to record and remember it and although it was a happy day and I am so pleased for him that it all went so well and he has found the woman he loves and who will share his life, still it was a difficult day for me. 

She was there too, you see.  The other woman in my marriage, my nemesis, the alternative version of me, of my family and for the very first time in all the years since it happened, the break-up of my family, I had to confront this. I couldn't just look away. She will always be there.

Of course, we have all moved on. My children have found some sort of balance in their lives and I too have a new life, a new family, people I care deeply about and yet the heartbreak is always there, just beneath the surface, waiting to trip me up. The challenge is, has always been, making the best of what is, try and find the best version of myself, of my life.  

But I'm struggling now.