Love (and tears)
This weekend, I was privileged enough to attend the wedding of two gorgeous friends of mine, Liz and Tim. It was wicked seeing some old faces and meeting some new ones too – a jolly good time was had by all, judging from the bleary eyes at breakfast the next day (mine mainly). I was there the night Liz and Tim met four years ago and I am so proud and pleased to have watched them blossom into the unit they are now; they’ve had their moments over the years but it was fairly obvious from early on this would develop into something wonderful and it all came to fruition this magical weekend. And it was in an amazing, amazing castle! Like Harry Potter!
Like all weddings, there were tears and I’ve been to a couple of weddings of good friends this year, but this one felt more emotional than usual. Liz has been a great, great friend to me since I became ill, and way before that, and I know that the tears we shed together this weekend were about more than just the enormity of her big day. Weddings have always been a blub-fest for me but it’s probably become a bit more, how can I describe it, poignant maybe? Is that the right word? The happy tears have now got just a teeny, tiny hint of what I suppose I can only describe as personal heartbreak and I know for a fact Liz felt that for me too. Not because I’m getting all Bridget Jones, desperate to pin some bloke down. In fact, I don’t think I could be less ready for that, much as I wish I was. But more because with every happy, beautiful, joyous event I am lucky enough to share with my wonderful friends, there now lurks the faintest dark shadow. Because as much as I am slowly adjusting to my new life and all the hassle (and happiness!) it brings, and just flipping well getting on with it in the best way I can, it hurts. A lot. And I am sad sometimes. And DEVASTATED I have cancer which apparently won’t go away. It’s not always obvious, and I don’t always say it, in fact I try not to – no-one likes a weeper, me included – but it’s always there. Some days it’s like a fluffy little white cloud, miles and miles overhead, and some days it’s like a swollen, black raincloud right over my head that’s going to bucket it down on me any second and I haven’t got an umbrella or a mac.
So friends, old and new – if we’re at party, or a gig, or a wedding, or anywhere else having a good old time, and you happen to notice a little tear, it’s largely because I’m happy to be in your company and I am counting my blessings … but also it might be because I’m a little bit sad that day. But I promise I won’t bawl, or burble, or snot all over you. I did say I wanted this blog to be honest, and here is my honesty, in all its raw nakedness. It wouldn’t be very honest if I just went ‘lalalalalalaeverythingsbrilliantallthetime’. Most of the time, my life’s pretty bloody good actually and I absolutely refuse to feel sorry for myself (and I really can’t stomach being pitied either so please, please don’t) but, well, I suppose I’m finally starting to acknowledge that it’s OK to be sad sometimes. Normal even, whatever normal is.
But anyway, to end this on a happy note in the manner it started – soooooo much love and luck to you, Mr and Mrs Newman. I just know you’re going to be wonderful together, forever, and thank you so much for being so wonderful to me. Mwah xx