ENDINGS

Some days you just have to eat a lot of ice-cream. I’ve managed three bowls in a row today and could give two figs as to what it might do to my cholesterol. I’m tired of all the fear, of constantly trying to do all the right things, of doing everything possible to safeguard Joel and I.  Don’t get me wrong, I have no desire to abandon common sense; I will not be going mask-free, clubbing, or laying on a crowded beach.  But every once in a while a bit of devil-may-care in the form of pigging out on gelato is just fine with me.

A little while ago I had a Facetime visit with my best friend who lives in Brooklyn. Our friendship spans thirty-six years and she is the closest thing to being a sister that I’ve ever had. It is to her that I owe a great part of my getting sober thirty years ago and over the decades we’ve been there for each other during many hard times. With her husband and mine we make a great foursome, spending weekends together in their country home and time together here in Tuscany and in London. Vivian is one of my 7 “sisters” with whom I’ve shared two separate visits to Cornwall.  The memories are many and treasured. Yet when I pressed the “end” button on the phone I realized that we may never see each other again, in the flesh. The attendant loss I felt was enormous.

Of course, none of us know from day to day – even without a pandemic – when the end will come. That it hasn’t come for me yet at 73 – even though it’s tried a few times – is a miracle and cause for daily gratitude.  There are many endings in the course of a life.  Yesterday was the 49thanniversary of my stillborn daughter, Amy, a life ended before it began.  Marriages end, as do jobs and childhood. Friendships come and go, along with dreams and plans and ideas. The wild land across the lane from where I grew up ended one day when a developer filled it with uniformly anonymous houses. School ends, and summer holidays, and even acne.

Some of these endings are inevitable, others unforeseeable.  All of them come with some amount of sadness; even those that carry us forward to something wonderful. Sometimes, in really rough patches, multiple endings happen simultaneously. I once lost my home, my job and custody of my child in a matter of weeks.  Yet even with the brutal endings we eventually pick ourselves up and carry on; good things happen again.

But with this pandemic endings that were unimaginable five months ago now are piling up. How many times recently have we all said, “It’s the end of life as we knew it.”? We pick ourselves up everyday, not knowing for what. Realisations drop at random, stunning in the enormity of the loss they carry: we may never travel again, we many never see our children again, we may never see our far-flung friends again. 

Maybe it’s different if you are younger. Maybe the belief in a future is easier come by in your teens, 20’s, 30’s or 40’s.  I surely hope so.  But for those of us over 70, old age has suddenly become a cruel reality.  Even the loss of skin elasticity didn’t ruin my delusion that I was still young. But Covid-19 has but an end to my denial. Unfortunately it doesn’t seem to be putting an end to the denial in which governments and large swaths of humanity still indulge.

Something I find particularly painful is the end of common sense in my old homeland. Common sense was the singular most important characteristic of “my people” that I clung to for decades. Even when I saw the start of its erosion in the early 90’s I continued to believe in it. The beginning of that end came when the nation voted for Brexit and was finally killed off when the majority voted for Boris and his abominable buddies. 

Yet some endings bring liberation and often the things we cling to are the very things we need to let go of.  Sometimes when a dream ends reality arrives, carrying with it an unimaginable gift. All those years that I lived in America I dreamed of returning to England. Two years ago I finally made it. It felt good. Now, between Brexit, Boris and Covid that dream is over. I’ve done my grieving and that too has ended. Now I am free. I belong nowhere. The liberation I feel as a result of this is surprising. As an adoptee I have hankered to belong all my life. But like so many “if only’s” that we are convinced would make us feel complete, belonging, too, is yet another illusion.

We are all now dealing with a thousand unknowns every day. None of us know what will be possible tomorrow never mind the foreseeable future. The truth is we have only ever belonged in the moment, and each time we practice that a lot of fear falls away and we are free to enjoy 3 bowls of ice-cream.

I leave you with this quote from T.S.Eliot

“We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.” 

Stay safe and well

With love

Maggie