Tag Archives: loss

I’ve changed: Christmas

24 Tuesday Dec 2019

Posted by in Learning and Evolving, People, Reflections, Simple things, The continuing adventure

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I wrote in a recent Post that Christmas has now changed for me, of how I used to love Christmas but now, not so much.

Years ago I used to be one of the leaders in joining in all things festive, and the hysteria that entails (in England for sure); but now I see Christmas as a poignant time of year, where there are so many people who are struggling, and do not feel the ‘festive spirit’.

From early in October the shops are stocking Christmas items, the adverts start to appear on the television, all of them are happy adverts, imply that everyone is happy, should be happy, will somehow be odd if they are not. How can you not be happy at Christmas right? All people are happy, the families are happy, you have to have matching pyjamas, a new dining table and sofa, games consoles, and even Kevin The Carrot from the Aldi supermarket campaign, over which people have been fighting in the car park because the toys were in short supply. How festive!

But now I look at things differently when I watch those ads; I find myself thinking of the people who will get into debt to buy their children presents and I shudder. I know some some people will hate this post but I think it needs to be considered: I think of all the people who are alone at Christmas, like the old man in the advert for ‘Help The Aged’s Ribbon campaign, and I think of the constant ramming of ‘Happy Christmas’ down our throats which just compounds peoples sadness and sorrow. I find it all so insensitive at times.

Then there is the expectation of ‘happy families’ followed by the disappointment and despair when everyone argues, and it doesn’t fulfil the ‘image’ of what people expect. In fact today, listening to the radio, I heard a cleric say how he refers to Christmas as ‘The Season of Disappointment’. I get that.

I said to RD recently that if I lived inEngland now I would spend Christmas providing Christmas dinner to the homeless. I would not fill our fridge with food that would be thrown away in January: the copious amounts of cheese, the trifle, the huge bloody turkey. I would not buy turkey and beef, and pork, all left after boxing day with nobody to eat it. These are lessons I have learned since living here, and these are lessons I am grateful for.

My last post was about now my son turned up here in France completely unexpectedly, even now the thought of the moment of when he walked in our gate and I looked out of the window and saw him standing there still makes my eyes fill with tears. He has gone now, more of that in another post, but that was the best gift I could be given, time, and memories, and knowing he loves me so much he wanted to give me that surprise.

I am blessed, but I say a prayer for those who are alone, exiled from those they love, for whose who have lost loved ones, the people who have nowhere to live, and the list sadly goes on and on. We have been without water, I now respect that commodity because to not be able to even wash your hands in running water is something few of us understand. Trust me when I say a hot shower is a blessing.

We will have a very simple Christmas, and we will be thankful.

So as you celebrate Christmas please say a prayer for those less fortunate, and count all the blessings that you take for granted every day.

I wish you all a mellow, satisfying Christmas.

Rosie.

cathedral in Domfront France

A feeling of disbelief and incredible sadness

14 Monday Oct 2019

Posted by in For the live of dogs, Friends, My family and other furry creatures, The continuing adventure

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Last year I shared a series of posts from our wonderful, crazy summer, with our friend Karen and her naughty little bundle of mischief Dylly Dyls, the puppy Welsh Terrier that had joined Karen’s life the year before. Karen blogged about the antics of Princess Wiglet and Dylan, they were best buddies, on her blog Dylans Welshie world.

We celebrated birthdays, and the world cup, hosted here in France, and the dogs had a summer of chasing each other, swimming in the pool, playing tuggies with mops (Dylan’s favourite toy in all the world) and Dylan loved riding on the lawn mower with uncle Richard, with whom she celebrated her first birthday on the same day.

The catchphrase of the simmer was ‘Dylan what have you got in your mouth.’ That puppy loved to pick Up everything, and I mean everything up in her mouth, and run with it. Sticks, socks, pants, phones, lighters, packets, you name it. Dylan was a one year old bundle of mischief.

Punctuated within all of this fun and frolic was lots of sleeping, as you do, wherever you fall.

But as autumn drew in things changed and Dylan had a new family. By the late spring she and her mum were off on a new adventure: to live in Spain with her new family and new baby sister, who although a pup was five times bigger than her. But that didn’t deter Dilly Dilly, oh no! She was top dog, and shouted at everyone as they swam in the pool. She spent hours with lots of other dogs, and life was the best.

Dylan was my friends baby, she saved her at a time when so much had changed. Along came this little, fat tempestuous puppy, who was nearly named Chubster, and she gave Karen’s life new meaning and form; and as dogs always do she gave her unconditional love, and taught Karen about giving love, and allowing herself to be vulnerable.

Last Thursday Dylan and her sister pulled down a bin bag that her loving parents thought had been put out of reach. When they were found Dylan had eaten chicken bones, and despite Karen’s determined attempts, the little bugger swallowed them. They perforated her intestines and Dylan collapsed. She was rushed to the vets where Karen pleaded with them to do all they can. But sadly Dylan died in Karen’s arms. Karen could not bring herself to tell us until yesterday, she believed that if she wrote it down it would make it real.

We spoke today, both cried together, I am still crying now. Karen? She is lost, and distraught, and caught in the grip of despair. I wrote years ago about how Harley nearly died, and how a guardian angel saved his life. That angel was Karen, Harley would not be here if it were not for her. What do you say to the person who saved your dog, but nothing could be done to save theirs? Where do you begin? Just listen I suppose, which I will always do. We feel so powerless, so weak, there are no words that can offer comfort.

Dylan had the most adventurous life in her two years of life. She spent a summer with us in France, lived in England, lived in Spain, swam in pools, met new dogs, and made people fall in love with her wherever she went. She persuaded uncle Richard to squirt cream directly into her mouth, chased cats, pulled cupboards down, and had me running after her as she ran straight into our French neighbours house. She took on cows, and sometimes Harley and Wiglet. She was such a little bugger.

She left too soon, there is nothing more to be said. But she taught us all so much, and will leave a lasting legacy, and so many memories.

I am writing this in homage of Dylan for my friend. There is nothing more I can do.

Farewell Dylan, run free on rainbow bridge my darling.

Auntie Moira

A reminder:

08 Monday Apr 2019

Posted by in Friends, People, Reflections

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I do truly believe that life shows you the way. I know that some people will roll their eyes, but have you ever considered that for all the planning you do, for all the organising and lists and preparation for the future does it work out as you planned? Ever?

So with this in mind I want to write about my dear friend Rod Clarricoats. In January when I wrote my blog I said how a dear friend had been immediately there for me. ( read here ) I said how this person was an old friend the type that is just there in the background. I had not spoken directly to Rod for over thirty years, but he found me on FB many years ago and when I needed him, without prompting, he messaged me at a dark time. That was Rod: always there for you when you needed him, always kind.

I have said in  my post how he made me think about where I was and how lucky I was, and when I told him he was always a kind bugger he responded by saying that he was a now ‘a kind old bugger.’ He was the same age as me: fifty six.

We messaged each other a  few more times in February and he asked about the campsite I was thinking of setting up: and told me that he would be in France this summer and if he could he would come to visit.

Yesterday I found out through FaceBook that Rod died on Friday morning. I am ashamed to say that I had not seen his post on Facebook: a meme about not letting cancer win. From what his family have written Rod acquired an infection and died quickly. I was so shocked.

He had never told me that he was ill, he had still simply been there for me all these years later and now he was gone.

Years ago when we were at college together, and going to Soul Weekenders in Essex in England, Rod was one of my bestest friends: when my heart was broken he would pick me up and take me out; and even when I moved to Wolverhampton with my future husband (not the one I have now) he would visit my mum; sometimes being a bugger and taking a different girl each time! Over time we lost touch, our lives took different paths and Rod moved to Wales with his family. From his posts on Facebook he was a happy man, blessed with a loving family.

We met at college: we were never an item but I know that one of the things he loved about me was my strength of character. It was the beginning of the eightees so there we would be in our two tone jeans. I can remember arriving at college one day as the older year had finished their exams and leaving and there was Rod: with all his friends in the thick of it throwing flour, and shaving foam. As it progressed they bought eggs and cornered my dear friend Aud and I in the ‘girls’ loos and decided to ‘make us into a cake!’ Don’t get me wrong we had given as good as we got! I also remember my broken heart and Rod taking me and Aud to the pub on a Sunday night; and telling the said perpetrator of my broken heart to ‘sod off’ because he wouldn’t leave me alone. That was Rod!

So I am writing this post because Rod has reminded me (as he did in January) that you have to make the most of life; because you never know what it has planned for you.  I have many jobs to do around the house but I need to write and get my book out there. I feel that urgent need now because life really is too short.  With life showing me the way from the messages and contacts about what I have written it is important to help others in times of difficulty. I will dedicate my book to Rod.

I have cried for a man that I hadn’t seen in thirty years, and I am crying now, because I realise that I have lost one of the good people who have been in my life. If he were here he would tell me to shut up and get on with it, whilst giving me cuddle at the same time.

So Rod: you’ve inspired me to get this done. Thank you my friend.

Au revoir (because I know we will meet again one day.)

Moisy

freindship for Rod