Sunday, January 3, 2010

The end of an era.

On New Years Day I watched Dr Who, like millions of others.  I had a realisation - an epiphany, if you will.  I talked it over with Charlie last night, and with Andy today, and it makes sense.  A lot of sense.

Rich and I often joked that he was my Doctor.  He had the same wry sense of humour, the same ability to rescue the girl and save the world, the same devotion to his woman, the same attitude to life.  He had lived before, he had loved before, but this was the best it would ever be.  When Rich died, I was lost, drifting along.  I have no idea what I taught last term, without looking at the plans *ahem* and so as of tomorrow, I'm starting at the beginning again.

That was kind of my start in my thinking really.  Starting again.  I've started again before, after Steve, after Simon, after the AC was born, and each time I was different, I was more of me.  All those people helped make me into who I am, the same as the experiences that I had and the life I lived and the schools I taught in and all those things. 

Rich made me stronger, braver, smarter, more confident.  He encouraged me to tap into my creativity by buying me a sewing machine, making me space to work, encouraging me to bake by trying things that he didn't know if he would like, by having faith in me, trusting me to handle the money, believing in me when I made a decision, stepping out in his own decisions, and most of all by loving me with all of his heart and soul.

So  now what do I do with all he taught me?  Put it away?  Or step forward into the future?  The answer is obvious really.  I jump forward, with a mighty run up and arm swing.  Do I ignore his gadgets and the things that he dealt with, or do I work hard to understand, reshoulder the burdens that he took from me, and get on with it?

The temptaion, and I'll be honest, is to do nothing.  To sit here on the sofa and do nothing.  It's not chilling out, because I'm not relaxing, I'm just existing.  Half the time I'm not even breathing.  Trust me, Mark the Officer knows how good I am at that.  But it;s not good for me.  I do know.

So I'm going to go and make myself some tea, do my evening routine, and get ready for school tomorrow, to be the best teacher I can be. 

AB was here today with K, all afternoon.  We did lunch at Pizza Hut, and bought fish, and the children played, and life was good.  Life was the way it should have been, but it was a different face, a different body, a different voice.  It was 2 parents, watching children playing, making tea, doing stuff.  And it was ok.  AC and AB talked about Rich, and AB helped AC put his beret on properly.  Whilst AB may or may not be part of my future, this afternoon showed me that there could be one, with someone else.  It didn't stop me crying just now, crying because I wanted it to be Rich that I'd spent the afternoon with, crying because I wanted it to be Rich showing AC how to wear a beret, or because I wanted to wake up with Rich this morning.  But AC needs a man around, he needs that kind of role model.

I need space and time and whilst I need Rich back, I accept I can't have him, and I won't spend years moping about it.  I expect I'll get some flack from people for it, whenever it happens, who ever it happens with, and it isn't happening yet, and won't for a while, but it won't suit everyone anyway.  What matters is that it suits AC and I.

And that was what happened.  The Doctor regenerated, and so did Rich, and so did I.  We all changed into other people.

I wonder who we are.

"Still not ginger!".........


H F W said...

How very true, Sarah. Very true. We are ever-evolving, and the people who are part of our stories are partly to thank. It's amazing the amount of love the heart can hold. Just because one day, soon or later, you come to love someone else, doesn't mean that you cannot still love Rich. I think we always love the people we once loved, but it just evolves, too.

trasha said...

You can love again. One day. It is just different.