Today a friend came round and I ended up telling them about the years leading up to my daughter being born and her first year of her life. All because they said;
“Well you can’t really take a three year old abroad!”
And I said;
“Dude, my daughter had lived in three countries by the time she was one!”
Okay, so I’m someone that uses “dude” as a word! Anyway, very long story short….my daughter was born in Gran Canaria, we lost our business there to the recession, we moved to France to live with her paternal grandparents, that didn’t work out so well and my husband left us and so I brought my daughter home to the UK, she was one when we moved back here.
Of course there is very much more to this story, however what my friend said before I started on this long tale was;
“Don’t tell me if it hurts.”
I said that it didn’t but that’s really a somewhat truth. I accept my past, I have to because it is done and can’t be undone. There is, of course, much more to be told than the summary above but I don’t live in the past, I try to live actively in the present and with a weather eye on my future. However, the past does hurt and I expect that no matter how far away I get from it there will be some things that will always be painful to me; some things that will always make me sad when I talk about them and fill my heart with regret and my eyes with tears.
Somedays it will be a sadness on behalf of my child and sometimes it will be a sadness for me. This isn’t a sadness about going back or being fixed – it is a the sadness of an injury that you still feel. The long healing process of broken hearts, hopes and trusts. Injured bones and joints ache long after they’ve healed, perhaps this is also true of hearts?