I’ve been feeling quite low this last few days. Missing my son, if the truth be known, and also tired, so tired, of the heavy decisions I keep facing and the sense of desolation which occasionally flows over me when I think of the difficulties yet to be faced. One trigger was my counselling session last Friday which I went to feeling bright and cheerful, having enjoyed a lovely holiday and having achieved loads in the flat, and came from feeling tearful and depressed. (Not sure that I will be too upset when my counselling sessions come to an end!) This was partly due to the realisation that my son has been gone a year tomorrow.
Today was a much bigger trigger, though. The Smudgelet has a friend staying and today I took them for the long-promised return visit to Legoland. Last time we went was such fun. Last time we went, I had my eldest son with me and for the first time he provided some really good almost-adult company. He and I like the same sort of rides and share a similar sense of humour and it was such fun to be there, the four of us, and be able to split into various arrangements of two and two. This time, though, I was there with two twelve-year-olds and no almost-adult. It was obvious that the two boys really wanted a taste of freedom, a chance to go where they wanted without an adult minder tagging along and cramping their style. “If we split up, mum, it’ll mean you can do what you want without having to hang around waiting for us all the time. We could just arrange a time and place to meet up later.” And of course, that was what I wanted for them. But it was such a lonely experience and the tears were hard to suppress. I felt no interest in going on a ride alone, and even the fantastic models in mini-world were uninspiring when there was nobody to say “Oh, look!” to, especially as I’d seen them before. I’m glad I had a voucher for one free entry to the park or I’d have seriously resented the £37 entry fee I paid to go in as I eventually gave up and took my book and a cup of coffee to the carpark and sat in the car for five and a half hours.
my depression now is lifted and I feel renewed. I slept a while in the car, which did me good, and I also finished my book which also did me good (as I find it hard to finish books at the moment). But best of all was something I saw through the window of the car, totally unexpected.
If you have read my blog before, you’ll know that there’s been a consistent reassurance every time I’ve been at my lowest. And today it was there again. A rainbow. A perfect rainbow spanning the sky. God’s promise: “It’ll be alright. Trust me”. And an accompanying feeling of peace. The sense of bereavement is still strong – there’d be something wrong with me if it weren’t – but I know that God is there alongside me and will carry me through, and even at my loneliest, I am never alone.