“When the Sun of compassion arises darkness evaporates and the singing birds come from nowhere.”
― Amit Ray, Nonviolence: The Transforming Power

I did not write in my blog last week and it has taken me up to tonight to put words to paper, I think it is because of the following:

I am finding that this huge challenge and life changing move to Canada after nearly 50 years in South Africa is opening up so many doors and so many memories and it is fascinating to me. I had a life in Ireland which I left to go to England and then two moves in South Africa, each one of these segments is a life within a life and I have had to work through each one without even being aware of it.

Looking back on these segments in my life without question the darkest part started on the 4^th February 1982 when I travelled from Johannesburg to my home in Potchefstroom in the throes of a Bowel Obstruction ending up in hospital that night only to be advised the next morning of my husband’s death by drowning. Discharging myself against medical advice in the hope it would pass through, (which it did before the deadline for surgery came), so that I could be home to tell my four children of the tragedy myself.

Getting through this it is impossible to fully cover the dynamics even with the perspective of years later. Certain things stand out like – he was with a group of 8 friends on this trip and they had been fishing for 3 days before the accident- the one friend bought home his “Catch” and put it in the deep freeze thinking what- I do not  know – and certainly to this day do not understand. He couldn’t explain it to me either – his thinking had been so distorted by the magnitude of the event.

In unpacking this segment it brought me to tears that I have not cried over for many years. Particularly in looking back was the realisation of the fine line between hopelessness and hope – for me experiencing the darkest moment of my whole life -the switch happened at  2 am in the morning when lifelong friends coming home from a party rang the bell. Others are not so lucky. For me the sun rose the next day in all its glory.

It has taught me to hold out lifelines for others so that I can be the 2 am ring on the door, or the other person at the end of the phone, I never fear when the phone goes at odd hours – it no longer holds any power as things happen when least expected and are not restricted to night time.

Giving a friend or colleague the freedom to phone you at their darkest hour  –  experience dictates it is invariably in the middle of the night – can shift hopeless into hope and by doing this I pay homage to my dearest friends who did that for me.