It seems as though the treacle just keeps getting thicker and thicker, it’s relentless and getting deeper everyday. Just a great big sea of treacle.
I wonder when it will end. I can see the treacle horizon but the sea just seems to go on and on. I remember discussing with Claire once the idea of going on a cruise, she wasn’t keen because she didn’t like the idea of not being able to see the land. She told me that she could imagine being out in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight, only the watery horizon to look at and when she thought of that she got a rising sense of panic.
That’s how I feel now.
If I could see an island in the distance then it would spur me on, I’d get a sense that the end was in sight and an idea of how much longer I needed to keep going for, but the way it is now I keep wading and it just keeps going.
I think what I’m looking for is an end to the pain of the way I feel now. I’m looking for the light at the end of the tunnel or a glimpse of an island of respite appearing on the treacle horizon, but I’m not sure that that is a particularly healthy viewpoint to have.
I want the way I feel to stop, but the way I feel is related to the loss and by its very nature that loss can never be regained.
It’s so easy to give loss a meaning that it doesn’t have. To give it attributes like treacle, like the sea, like a tunnel with no end. But that’s not true is it? That’s only the way I am choosing to view it.
So reflecting on this now I can choose to view it a different way so let’s try this, let me start writing this update again with a different analogy.
All I feel at the moment is a deep red mist of uncertainty. The redness is a deep blood red painted along the wall of the corridor next to me, but as I go through each day the deep red that seems so overbearing at the moment begins to fade.
Each day, with less red paint to put on the wall, the intensity gets less. I can see that overtime that deep blood red turns to a soft pink and if I look down the entire corridor, whilst the redness is always there, at the end of the corridor it fades to a gentle rose tinted white. The redness never goes but it turns from something overbearing into something that is actually quite beautiful.
I wonder if the memory of Clare which leaves me in so much pain at the moment can also be turned into something beautiful in the future?