A moment of clarity

Happy New Year!  I am not one really for making new year resolutions. Are you?  My logic goes something like:  if you want to do something or change something, it is best to start straight away - there is nothing magical about the days rolling over to a particular number.  But I do have some odd notions about "laying ghosts to rest."

So, today, I am sitting at a table at a restaurant in the Company Gardens where, just over three years ago, TD, my excellent friend K, and I sat having a Christmas outing and catch up chat.  Some memories of that day are sharp, others a bit fuzzy.  I remember the three of us going to the National Art Gallery and being surrounded by great beauty and/or thought provoking works.  I remember warm sunshine as we walked through the summer gardens to the outside restaurant, and sat at a table in the shade of lovely old trees.  I remember ordering a chocolate brownie for TD as she hadn't been hungry at lunch time.  Everything should have been lovely, but TD looked at the food (normally her favourite), tried the tiniest nibble and tears welled up in her eyes.  She couldn't eat it. She was painfully thin.  I have to admit I felt a bit frustrated.  I didn't know until the next day that she was DKA.  I knew nothing about T1.  All I knew was that I was worried about her.

Sometimes places hold memories that are full of fear.  This restaurant is one of those places, and I have avoided it.  So, I am sitting here, alone, having tea, hoping to forgive myself for my blindness and ignorance and dangerously slow reactions three years ago.

This morning, TD and six friends and I went to visit the same art gallery.  The exhibits have, of course, changed.  The girls wandered round, splitting up into kindred groups.  I don't think TD could hear the thumping of my heart.  It was good to revisit the gallery and paint a different picture for myself.  TD and her friends are now wandering around the national museum, while I excused myself to sit here and drink tea.  It has been good to revisit not only the places but also the memories and depths of the self, and to look at them from the distance of time and expand them with laughter, happiness and maybe even forgiveness.

Resolutions come for me in moments, rather than years.  I have moments of clarity where I can see the bigger picture.  One of TD's friends brought home made chocolate brownies for them to share this morning.  She ate (more than one) happily, seemingly oblivious to my deja vu moment of three years ago*.  I resolved then to let go of the shadow of the tea room and gallery.  Or rather to let go of the fear of what happened three years ago.  TD, surrounded by friends and chocolate brownies, helped me replace the fuzzy memories with new experiences.

All the best for 2018.  May your have many moments of resolutions that bring you happiness.

* TD read the blog and showed me yet again, that she is way ahead of me in her kindness.  She deliberately set up today to remake the memory for us both.  Thank you TD.