This morning the welsh hills pulled out their best clothes for my leaving. The colours came out to see me off and the blue arc above looked crisp to the touch in the streaming white light.
Since against the odds, October found a little summer sunshine to stow in this one last bright day, it seems anything might be possible. That thought is always is good place to begin from. It’s a good sky to see in a first step.
Truth be told, I feel like I need some sunshine. This journey will be so long that I can’t quite see at end to it. It feels as if I am leaving into a limbo rather than heading somewhere else. There’ll be trains, buses, trams and planes but I will not get to my destination in Bangladesh till Thursday. Right now that seems like a world away.
I’ll be working in Bangladesh for about 3 months. It is usually exciting to look forward to a life I can’t yet imagine but this time I feel an itch of anxiety I can’t quite lay my hands on.
When dad died I gave myself 6 months freedom from big decisions about where to be, what to do and what my life should look like. In this space between I’ve been leading a temporary life filled with ‘good enough for now’s. But I’m 4 months in, edging towards the end of that time and I feel no closer to answers.
I feel I should be finding more certainty and stability but so far I’m still hunting for clues, feeling for my heart. The prospect of another kind of future is kind of scary whereas this ever-shifting now, this open space, feels relatively safe.
I know this kind of unknown. It seems even limbo can get to be comfortable after all.
Somehow I’ve missed dad more in this leaving than I did when I went to Uganda. I thought that the firsts would bring the sharpest pinches of pain but this time it is just a little worse. I can’t help but resent the new normals that are becoming routine without him.
It is hard to watch life grow and blossom, filling what were empty spaces. It is hard to hold tight to the knowing that he will still be in my heart and in my thoughts when time has filled up all the gaping gaps.
As ever the sadness is bitter sweet. The holes are often filled with new flowers, new blooms and little kindnesses and my gratitude is often as intense as my sense of loss.
This time my mum didn’t just drop me at the station as she usually would. She ignored my protests and waited to do the last second, last glance wave me off as he would have done before. Where she stood it was as if I saw his echo smile at me and yet all at once I saw it was so wholly her.
I appreciated the gesture but still cried on the train before consoling myself with the love packed into my sandwiches. I knew I should have brought tissues…