Andrew Kay: Mortal toil
It’s a week into the new year as this issue hits the streets, but the logistics of paper media means that I am writing this over nine days before Christmas Day. Madness I know, because right now it would be fun to be reporting on a season of jollity and excess. It simply hasn’t happened yet.
The truth is that right now I can’t see it happening either. With the memory of my father passing on Christmas Eve last year, and now Mum being very unwell following two strokes, it’s pretty hard to get into any kind of festive spirit.
I’m trying as hard as I can but somehow, a week of isolation in either Somerset or mid Wales is not filling my heart with yuletide joy.
What has filled my heart with joy is the amazing response to what is happening to my family right now. My sudden and almost unannounced departure in December required some explanation and, given the constant phone calls to the hospital and to family, I popped a short message on Facebook.
I like Facebook, oh I know it has its faults, but as a means of keeping in touch it is excellent, and I am far more connected now than I was a few years back, especially with people I had lost touch with over the years.
My message was pretty short and explained that Mum was unwell but fighting hard to make a good recovery. If you knew Mum you would know exactly how hard she would fight back. Never one to sit back and let things wash over her, I was impressed to find that two strokes had not diminished that spirit.
My message said the same, and within a few hours the post on Facebook was filled with kind words from friends old and new, all wishing her a speedy recovery and comfort to our family. I was touched, deeply.
Facebook has always been a fun tool for happy banter, but it is also a great way of spreading important news. There are things that I would most certainly not post on there, private things, personal stuff that is not meant to be shared in this way. But there are moments when it serves a great service and this was one such moment.
Who knows what the days following writing this will bring. I know that my family will all be rallying around Mum to make the holiday as normal as possible. I know that our friends will be thinking of us too. I know for fact that Mum will be fighting to make that recovery. She’s already working on that with an attitude that would be a credit to a person a quarter of her age.
I will have spent the weeks travelling on trains, and no doubt coaches, to get back and forth across the country. The Christmas break, which should be a time of rest, will have been, as last year was, one of stress and exhaustion and I will be starting this new year with a massive resolution.
Now I’m not one for making new year resolutions. They seem to be a recipe for disappointment, and I’ll lay odds that some of you who made them just a week ago have already broken them. Such is the nature of the thing, especially if you made them in the drunken revels of a new year celebration.
“In the words of the great Freddie Perren and Dino Fekaris, as sung by Gloria Gaynor, I Will Survive”
My resolution is simple: Expect nothing and then everything that comes to me will be a wonderful surprise.
In 2013 I expected that life would be sweet, but it wasn’t, and despite many great moments with friends and family, the year simply went from bad to worse. I’m made of tough stuff though, genes no doubt from my feisty mother, and in the words of the great Freddie Perren and Dino Fekaris, as sung by Gloria Gaynor, I Will Survive.
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