‘Tis a morbid subject I know, more particularly at this time of year than any other mayhaps. I apologise, but it’s been nagging at me.
It’s been on my mind a lot this year. I suppose this started with the July bombings in London. For some reason this really affected me. Not just because it was in my country, on my own doorstep, in a city that I love. No, it more was more to do with bringing the question of life to the forefront of my mind.
How easily life can be extinguished.
How woeful it is that one minute we could be doing what we always do, daily, happily, and the next minute we could be dead. Gone. The candle snuffed out.
And we wouldn’t know.
Death has scared me this year. I’ve sat in cars, on trains, walked down the road, over bridges, thought I smelt burning in my own house, almost fallen down the stairs [again, I really ought to stop doing that] and death suddenly springs to my mind. My death. It happened last night, driving home in the dark on country lanes on the way home from King Kong [don’t go and see it if you’re scared of heights], seeing cars overtaking other cars in the distance, so close but yet too far to do any damage to me.
It’s not the actual death I’m scared of. It’s what happens to the people I leave behind, what happens to my memory, the effortlessness it takes for other people to continue with their lives, as though nothing happened.
People continue to live. Death is just a natural part of life.
It makes me sad. But especially at Christmas.
[this post comes to you in memory of the little boy and his daddy from the next street, who lost their lives on tuesday night when their car left the road and was submerged in water … ]
please God bless the mummy/wife of the little boy and his daddy, and bless everyone who has lost someone this year xxx Elsabeth