Thursday, 26 July 2007

One day at a time!

Numb and empty sounds such an awful way to feel, but its not! They're much better than devastated, guilt ridden or angry, but so far from happy, joyous or even content. So I guess being somewhere in the middle can't be too bad, however precarious that balance is. Trouble is how easy it can be for the crap feelings to flood back again, yesterday it was seeing the latest report in the papers, today a tear rolling down a friend's face. I expect this will continue for some time! I'm not afraid of my tears or ashamed of my grief, so let 'em roll!

I really appreciate the support and encouragement over my return to LA and the continuation of the trip. Why did I ever think people would think it weird or selfish? Oh well, I reserve the right for moments of temporary insanity. Being at home is hard, I don't think it would be easy to move forward while staying here. And I don't feel like I'm running away from anything. My grief is with me at all times, where-ever I go. Always just a short step from reducing me to tears, or worse. I used to scorn people claiming they had panic attacks, I thought it was just a sign that someone was incapable/reluctant of handling something. I thought it was an excuse, a ploy! Not any more; ain't I glad for all that meditative and other methods to relax. I have to say I think physical pain is so much easier to handle; so long as its mine.

I'm struggling a bit with imagery from the accident. Not just what I saw, which is bad enough, but what I imagine. Scenario' keep running through my mind trying to decipher exactly what happened. Or what could have happened if I hadn't let Cai ride at the back, or have the red bike, or ridden the bikes back. And I know full well none of this matters to Cai, it can't change anything; especially helping me feel better. But I guess 'its all part of the process' (shit, that's a Morcheeba line, is that from the funeral track?) and I need to go through that, and lots more before I can start to envisage a life without Cai. That is the hardest thing at present, imagining any sort of life that doesn't involve Cai. Attempts to look ahead get lost in an impenetrable void. Drifting off into such voids have become a normal part of life, it'll be nice when normality means more than this.
Time's getting short and its only days before flying westward again. A new start, with a heavy heart! I look forward to riding again, just been too damn wet and blowy to enjoy it round here. Plus, I've been lent a car while some friends (thanks J&A) are away.

Only another few days before I return to LA. I'm not exactly anxious about going off and doing the trip on my own; I think its more a worry about my sanity. And NO, I'm not losing it! But spending long periods of time riding alone tends to create your own reality. Greater appreciation for your surroundings and complete freedom, its heartbreaking I won't get to experience Cai discovering this. Being exposed to nature, whilst on my bike, with all my gear strapped on and no-where I have to be must be one of the best ways to travel. So why the worry? I know I've got a lot of heart-ache to get out my system! Shit, last year I was riding through the Turkish mountains with tears streaming down my face. And that was just thoughts of missing Cai once he went off to university. I know I'll get really lonely, and want to seek company at times. I also know the tears will flow, probably for some time yet. But I also know I have the strength and will, not just to do the journey, but to gain a hell of a lot from the experience. Wouldn't it just complete the picture to be able to see some poor folk, in a piss poor village, get an unexpected bit of charity, raised by people in memory of Cai.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Found this, and thought of you and your journey:
[I think it’s an old traditional Gaelic blessing].

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
The rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

One second at a time, One day at a time don’t worry about tomorrow, let others do that for you.

Till your return I cry another tear, and offer another hug, may America look after this eccentric English gentleman & don’t forget your monocle! [A giggle is sometimes allowed, I think]

Denise
xxxxxxxxxxx

denise said...

Hello Les

It's Denise from Anglesey again ... just wanted you to know that I'm still following your blog and my heart is still with you ~x~