Does it matter?

You would think that a pain that started 35 years ago would by now have lessened and turned into something that I would by able to remember without shedding tears, it appears not. Yesterday was my sons Jeffery’s birthdayJeffery’s birthday, I made a point when I was writing my post to not mention it, as I was too busy telling myself off for the tears I had quietly already shed. Then last night we were watching “Eastenders”, one of the main characters had died and her father was talking about how he remembered the day she was born, well that was it, the tears flowed. I have always made a point of taking the 21st of work, just for that reason, it is a day when without warning and with very little needed to trigger all the pain of his life and the tears appear, regardless how hard I try to hold them back. I think from that point on until I fell asleep, the odd tear was always waiting to fall. Every year I tell myself this is the year, this is the point in time that I will be able to remember with a loving smile and a warmth that I felt when holding him, not just pain of the worst 2 weeks of my life, but even this morning there is that raw feeling as thought every little bit of it is open again and I once more need to heal for the rest of this year.

It is strange how we can so simply forget those things that made a particular day feel wonderful, or the joy of an event becomes dulled and somehow lost in the swirl of life, but those things that hurt us, the things that destroy us are always there crystal clear, they are beacons that shed no light and devour all that is good around them. Two weeks out of 53 years, but two weeks that I feel still as though I remember every single second.

It doesn’t take a genius to know that being pulled back in time, makes you think about other things that fit around that event, once begun the memories keep coming and the strange things appear that you just can’t place or remember with any clarity. I remember with warmth the house we lived in at the time he was born, it was a ground floor cottage flat, that although the back bedroom was so damp you could sweep the water across it with your hand, which meant from the day we moved there it was never used, it was a home I totally loved. In my mind, I can walk around that house and see not just the layout, but the colours and positions of the things that made it our home. Despite the fact it was the late 70’s when we moved there, it still had a coal fire that ran the central heating which if possible, I would have in my home today, despite the work it caused daily, between lighting, banking, and cleaning, it cause dust that meant the house was always being cleaned. I also remember having just a twin tub washing machine, for those who don’t know what that is, there was one side where you washed everything, then you lifted the wet washing it into the other side where it was spun out, not plumbed in, but filled and emptied from the kitchen sink. At times, it seemed as thought it was always running trying to keep up with the boiling of Teressa’s nappies, but it was a happy home, with a big garden. A tiny home that was filled not just with us and our belongings but also pets, hamsters, mice, gerbils, guinea pigs, that made me throw up when I was pregnant and cats, several cats, not all mine they just would arrive. All of us crushed into a space smaller than we live in now, but there always seemed to be room for more. I don’t remember ever spending a single day on my own in that house, everyday friends would call for coffee, or even stayed for dinner, I remember their faces, their names and the things we laughed at and did. My memories of that time seem clear, to clear for some of them as many also held pain. What I don’t understand is why my two homes that followed that one, each become vaguer.

Although I remember the layout, the only two rooms I am sure of are the living room and kitchen, the rest have only small points, objects that I remember not the room as such, it was our first real house, semi-detached and horrid on the outside, Plymouth again has a feeling of happiness to start with, but something went wrong and it all slipped from there. Now I am sure that it was my first bad relapse but at the time, well I had no idea, only that life was out of control and I had lost hold of all of it. Why that should take away my memories of the house I don’t know, but they are vague and fuzzing outside those two rooms. Even worse is my memory of Rhu, there is one whole room there, that although I know it existed, I haven’t the slightest idea what was in it, or what it was used for if anything at all. As for the rest of the house, only the living room is clear, it is almost as thought as our homes became bigger, the less and less I remember, as if I am for some reason shutting out its very existence. I know my memory is more than questionable these days, but to loose a memory of a place you lived for years, somehow just doesn’t feel right and just doesn’t fit, especially when it is the more recent ones that I have lost.

I kept going yesterday, moving forward all the time, each home after the other and each one holds gaps that I know are there, just like the room in Rhu, it’s there, but without any detail. Mostly it is people that I have lost, as all my homes after that until I met Adam where flat shares, I can’t even see their faces in most cases, just the knowledge that I was never alone. Try as I might I can’t remember my friends either, some of them even came to our wedding but I can’t remember their names, just some of their faces. When I found out that my memory was affected by my MS, I always thought that it was going to be my short term memory that was going to be the greatest problem, the going into a room without remember what I was there for, but as time goes on I now know there is much more to it. I don’t understand how it works or how it picks out what it is going to blank and what is going to stay with me, but as I find those blanks, they seem to become more scary by the minute. I know that everything I have listed today isn’t important on the grand scale, but as I found each blank it is like staring into an abyss, what is going to vanish next, will it be yesterday that I loose, or the rest of what remains of my childhood. Will it happen today, tomorrow or next year? yesterday pulled me back, because of one memory, on very precious memory, will that one day go to? Suddenly it all has a different light to it and it’s one that is blacker than black.

 

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 23/04/12 – Food? No thank you

Last night we decide to have a Chinese ‘Take Away’ for dinner as an early celebration of a couple of events later this week, I am still paying for it. I really to be very truthful wish I hadn’t eaten it at all, it was lovely and no I don’t have food poisoning but I am paying. I’ve know for years that my body doesn’t react well to large quantities of food and added to the recent shut down of my gut I really was just asking for the results I got. I ordered a portion of Spare ribs with a bag of prawn crackers to enjoy the remaining sauce with. That should have been it but I was greedy and ordered a King Prawn Satay to follow. We know this ‘Take Away’ well and I knew exactly what would arrive. My plan was to only pick out the prawns from the satay hoping that the quantity would…..

One thought on “Does it matter?

  1. Memory seems to be selective. But I don’t know why.
    It is sad that you still feel so raw when remembering your dear son’s birthday. But good that he will never be forgotten. Hugs x

    Like

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