The power of the written word

My uncle passed away this week.

He is actually my dad's cousin, but their relationship was that of brothers, so the loss was significant for my dad.

For me, not only was it difficult to witness my dad's pain, but I found it extraordinarily hard to reconcile in my mind, that a man who has been a part of our family since before I was born, was no longer with us.

It was the second loss my family has endured this year, after the passing of my beautiful sister-in-law in April.

Cancer took them both.

But where did it take them? Perhaps the most difficult question of all.

I'm not one to contemplate my own grief publicly.

I know it helps many, but for me, it's simply too intense a feeling, too complex and too personal for me to put into words that could possibly do it justice - or do justice to the grief felt by those closest to the ones who have passed.

But I did want to share this.  A piece of writing that touched my heart, giving me a sense of comfort - or something similar.

It's amazing how words can do that.  They have the power to heal, the power to inspire, the power to explain, to give comfort, to express love and confusion and desire and fear.

They have the power to impact lives.

Death is nothing at all
I have only slipped away into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other
That we are still
Call me by my old familiar name
Speak to me in the easy way you always used
Put no difference into your tone
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Laugh as we always laughed

At the little jokes we always enjoyed together
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was
Let it be spoken without effort
Without the ghost of a shadow in it
Life means all that it ever meant
It is the same as it ever was
There is absolute unbroken continuity
What is death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind
Because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you for an interval
Somewhere very near
Just around the corner
All is well.
Nothing is past; nothing is lost
One brief moment and all will be as it was before
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again

 By Canon Henry Scott-Holland, 1847 – 1918 Canon of St Paul’s Cathedral

Has a piece of writing had an impact on your life? If so, and you'd like to share it, please do. 

xxx

My First

Well, this is awkward.

Kind of like when you’re waiting for the first person to turn up to your party.

You’ve been ready for half an hour, a bowl of chips and a couple of beautifully prepared plates of canapés waiting, untouched and perfectly placed.

You walk back and forth to the bathroom, touch up your lipstick and sit down to listen to the clock tick.  You watch the hands move ever so slowly past the official start time.  Then you wait. 

Then when there’s finally a knock on the door, you jump up, grab a handful of chips, place a half-filled glass of wine on a coaster, take a swig and breathlessly announce that you’re STILL getting organized.

“But thanks for coming!”

So as I sit down to write the first post for my shiny new blog I wonder: do I get straight down to business, or shyly introduce myself, twirling strands of hair around my finger, while smiling at my shoes.

The latter is more typically me, hence, the rather awkward first post.

Not that there’s anything unique about awkward firsts.

First times are quite frequently the epitome of awkward.

Most of own cringe-worthy firsts were related to public speaking - not my forte, being self-conscious by nature.

During my first oral presentation at school, I read every word of my speech despite knowing it off by heart, my hands shaking furiously as I sped through each palm card at record speed.

My first live cross during my time as a television reporter was one of the most terrifying firsts I ever endured. I can’t explain why.  I’d been doing regular, pre-recorded pieces to camera for a couple of years by then.  

But something happened the moment I heard the count-down through my ear-piece, (the very fact I was wearing an ear-piece enough to make my knees shake) - the sound of the music signifying the news was about to begin sent me into a near-meltdown. 

My heart began to beat so fast I thought it would burst right out of my chest. And as I heard my cue, the words I’d so meticulously prepared escaped me. 

I spoke what felt like gibberish, seemingly without knowledge of the words I was saying, as if in slow motion, wishing the ground would swallow me whole.

It wasn’t until I watched the tape back that I realised I did in fact say something that made some sort of vague sense, and relayed the message I was supposed to be delivering.

Not all firsts are awkward though.  They’re definitely not all unpleasant.  In fact many of the most amazing experiences of my life were firsts.

The first kiss. 

Few could argue against the awesomeness of the first kiss, especially when considering the simplicity of the action compared with the intensity of feelings it evokes.

The first time I laid eyes on my children. 

Painful in the lead-up, but the most magical, memorable moments of my life.  If I could relive those experiences, I’d do it in a heart beat.  

But you can’t relive a first time. It’s simply not possible.  

Firsts can be scary too.

The first time I realized everything wasn’t always going to be ok. 

When the doctors told us the routine scan for an “uncomfortable” feeling wasn’t ‘nothing’, it was a tumour in my mother’s kidney.  The first time I would have swapped any and all of the good things in my life for her to be ok.

Firsts can play with your emotions too - in fact they often do, leaving an imprint on your heart that remains with you forever. 

The first time I experienced a relief so strong that the feelings are just as powerful in memory as they were at the time - the tumour turned out to be benign after all.

Firsts can be life-affirming too. 

As clichéd as it sounds, turning 30 marked the first time I felt truly comfortable, truly confident in myself - to be myself, trust in myself and feel strong enough not to compromise that sense of self for anything, or anyone.

Now, time to grab a couple of chips and see if anybody turns up!

What have been your most memorable first times?