The 'C' Word, Part 2: Three Weddings, and a Burial

Wedding Number One:
In the summer of 1985 I attended a wedding as the 'plus one' of a platonic male friend. At the reception afterwards, I was pleased to be asked to dance by the Best Man, whose blue eyes had caught my attention. We danced and talked and danced again, and I was happy when he asked for my phone number. To my delight, he rang a few days later and we went on our first date.

Wedding Number Two:
In 1991, reader - I married him!

Yes, I met T at the wedding of our friends Kevin and Ann, and six years later, Kevin was T's Best Man at our own wedding, in the little village church in which my parents had married. By then, Kevin and Ann had a three year old daughter and another on the way. Our friendship with Kevin and Ann was so close that they asked us to be guardians for Rachel, Charlotte and (in time) their younger brother, Michael, in the event that anything untoward should happen to the two of them. Until T and I moved to Wales in 2000 we spent virtually all our spare time together, like a big extended family (Kevin and Ann were originally moving here too, but ultimately decided to stay on Essex).

T and I were married for 17 years, and I thought we were pretty happy until he dropped a bombshell and left in 2008. Since that day, he and I have been in (mostly cordial) irregular contact, yet I had not met - nor wanted to meet, to be honest - his new wife, Sawittree.

So when I received an invitation to Rachel's wedding it brought up mixed feelings. Firstly of course, excitement and happiness at the wonderful news, and pleasure at the thought of sharing my beautiful Goddessdaughter's special day. But also... Sawittree would be there. Younger than me, slimmer than me. On T's arm. That brought up less pleasant emotions. Anxiety, insecurity, apprehension, and a lot of the grief and anger I thought I had processed and left behind by now.

Hmmm.

Luckily I had a few months to prepare myself - firstly by making careful plans to ensure I would be looking my best and hence feeling as confident as possible, and secondly by continuing to work through my feelings about T and Sawittree.

I'm not sure why or how it happened, but at some point before the wedding, I realised that actually, I don't care what T or Sawittree think about me or how they see me. I am now happy in my own skin, at peace with who I am, loved by and in love with IB. Perhaps enough time has elapsed, perhaps I have moved on, perhaps I am a different person. But something has shifted, healed and it is time to move on. And how symbolic that this closure manifested via the wedding of the eldest child of the couple whose own wedding was the starting point of my life with T? And what better symbol of 'new beginnings' than a wedding? The significance seemed staggering when I made the connections.  

Wedding Number Three:
Rachel's wedding was to be held in Maldon, Essex, so IB and I travelled up from Wales the night before and stayed with my sister and her husband in Kent. The weather was still searingly hot, and although we left in plenty of time in the morning, traffic snarls at the Dartford Crossing meant that we weren't as early as hoped by the time we'd arrived and parked the car. Walking through to the High Street, we arrived at the church with about 15 minutes to spare. But to my horror, it immediately became clear I had brought us to the wrong place - the church I had assumed the wedding was in is now a Heritage Centre and was buzzing with stalls selling arts, crafts and jam! Rifling through my bag in a panic I realised I had not brought the invitation. I asked one of the stallholders for help and she explained that there were two churches that the wedding could be in, either St Mary's or All Saint's - but they were at opposite ends of the High Street! This was now beginning to resemble a scene from 'Four Weddings and a Funeral', and my chances of arriving looking cool, calm and serene as I had hoped were fast melting away. I had the name 'St Mary's' in my mind for some reason so off we headed as fast as we could through the crowds of Saturday morning shoppers, me tottering in unaccustomed high heels. We finally arrived at the church to find no one outside and the door shut. Tiptoeing up, I opened the creaky old oak door as quietly as I could, expecting all eyes to turn on the latecomers... only to find the church completely empty. The wedding was, of course, at All Saints, at the other end of the High Street. 

At this point something in me stopped worrying and just decided to go with the flow. It was blazingly hot and humid, my feet were killing me and we had clearly missed any chance of arriving in time for the wedding. We sat in the church porch, while I changed into the flat sandals I had mercifully thought to stow in my bag and discussed our options. IB said to me, 'You are always running round after everyone, trying to keep everyone happy. Just let go of that, and accept things the way they are.' Which was true, helpful and a very liberating perspective all at once. We decided to walk - slowly - up to All Saint's Church, wait outside during the service and get some photos of the bride and groom when everyone emerged. I realised that though I may have missed the wedding service itself, all I really cared about was seeing my beautiful Goddessdaughter happy, enjoying her special day. But then as luck would have it, just as I'd changed back into my posh heels we spied some other latecomers at All Saint's Church and crept in behind them. Mercifully it was during a hymn and we slid quietly and gratefully into a vacant pew.

It was a truly lovely wedding with Rachel absolutely radiant in a gorgeous dress she had designed herself, and her new husband beaming and handsome. As we filed out at the end of the service, I spotted T and Sawittree shading themselves under a tree. IB and I walked over to say hello, and I was quite taken aback to be greeted by T as 'Darling', which I certainly wasn't expecting. That said, it made me think I couldn't be looking too bad for an old girl!

I took plenty of photos and then we made our way back to the car. We weren't expected at the wedding breakfast as the venue was small and the family party large, but we would be returning later for the evening reception. In the meantime IB and I went for lunch at what was one of my favourite pubs when I lived in the area, The Anchor at Runsell Green, Danbury. It was a beautiful summer's day and we sat outside the lovely old pub surrounded by flowers, enjoying a cooling breeze while we ate. Afterwards we took a meandering drive through my old memories, and I showed IB the church where Kevin & Ann married, the first house T & I lived in together, my paternal grandparents' house and the village my father had grown up in, the village where I went to school and finally the village where I grew up, Mountnessing. We also made an unscheduled stop at T's parents' house. I had always got on well with them, especially T's stepmother and although we'd spoken on the phone since T and I split, I hadn't seen them. By luck, they were in and we had a lovely though brief catch-up, and I was able to introduce IB to them.

At Mountnessing we had arranged to meet up with my Mum and Dad - who were in Essex visiting friends - at the home of an ex-neighbour. It was a little surreal as this meant we were in the house opposite my maternal grandparents' old house and diagonally opposite the house I'd grown up in (we had lived next door to my grandparents). Things became even more surreal when the people now living in what had once been my grandparents' house, invited us in to have a look round and see how the house looks these days. This was turning out to be more of a trip down memory lane than I had expected!

The house was at once familiar and not: some rooms had only changed a little, yet others - including a new extension - were completely different. It was not unpleasant though, as the family now living there are lovely and the house retains its warm atmosphere. Out in the garden there were also signs of time having moved on - plants and trees had grown or disappeared, new fences had been erected, and the patio and fishpond my grandfather had lovingly constructed is now showing its age and is in need of an overhaul! We also wandered down into the orchard next to the house - well, it used to be an apple orchard but now the apple trees and blackcurrant bushes of my childhood are all gone. But still there is the silver birch tree T and I planted when we buried the ashes of our son, Peter.

The tree now towers over me. Time has passed, and the sharpness of grief has dulled, yet it is still there. Suddenly all these ghosts of the past are too much, I am overwhelmed by it all and tears well irresistibly up. Luckily IB and my Mum are there to comfort me. I am held in loving arms and given time to cry, and breathe, and compose myself. More closure. We walk slowly back to the present together. Time to get ready for the wedding reception.

*****

The evening reception was as lovely as the wedding itself. The venue was superb. A live band played jazz and swing and people danced, young and old together. There was cake, and champagne, and pretty vintage china. The heat of the day abated as the evening drew on. I saw people I haven't seen in years and enjoyed catching up with them and seeing the amazing young adults their children have grown into. My parents and brother were there too. It was a very special occasion and I was so glad to have been a part of it. I was glad to have finally met Sawittree and put that particular anxiety aside. I was glad to reconnect with old friends. I was glad I saw Peter's tree, and both the continuity and changes in places I used to know so well. It felt like everything that was important to me from my years living in Essex had all come together, been revisited, acknowledged, and put properly away. Closure, writ large. Again.

And that was when the fiercely hot spell of weather finally broke. Thunder rumbled overhead and lightning flashed. But it all seemed part of the celebrations, Mother Nature's firework display. Deliciously cool rain fell onto warm pavement as we said farewell to the wedding party and made our way back to the car between showers.

I was exhausted. But so glad I'd come.

Moonroot and Roots

[The photo shows part of a wrought iron gate in the garden of my grandparent's house in Essex]



Driving back to Wales from Essex, I took a bit of a nostalgic detour for the first part of my journey. From Maldon, Woodham Mortimer, through Danbury (where I first laid eyes on T when he was best man at Kevin and Ann's wedding), on to Great Baddow, where T and I first lived together. From there via Galleywood (where my cousin still lives) I cut across the common to Margaretting, down Maldon Road where my grandparents lived when I was young, past Margaretting school where my father went as a child and on to Ingatestone where I and my siblings went to school. From Ingatestone to Mountnessing with its distinctive windmill and so many childhood memories, before finally joining the A12, M25, M4 and back to Wales.



From weatherboard, pargetting and thatch houses to stone and slate cottages. From flat open fields and the big skies that inspired the likes of John Constable, to hills, valleys, waterfalls. From meandering lazy willow-lined rivers to tumbling trout streams. From a land of flint and clay to one of slate and clay.



I now call Wales home, but really, is it? I have lived here now for eight years and in that time I've made a conscious effort to really put down roots. Roots are very important to us home-loving Cancerians! But I sometimes wonder if I really have roots anywhere.



I was born and raised in Essex, as were my parents. But every one of my grandparents had come to Essex from elsewhere, their families originally from London, Somerset, Wales, Scotland, France. So I'm only second-generation Essex. Compare this with my neighbour from a farm just up the road from Halfway-Up-A-Hill. His family have lived on and farmed that same piece of land for eight hundred years. Eight. Hundred. Years. I find that continuity extraordinary. And I have been here in Wales only eight years! How can I possibly call it home?




I also lived in Australia for eighteen months, where I made a conscious effort not to put down roots as I knew we wouldn't be staying (very hard as rooting seems to be my default setting), yet it was still a place I came to love. I feel connections still to Melbourne, to Essex, and now to Wales.



So where is home? They say that home is where the heart is, but I find my heart scattered all over the place. I have dear ones in Essex, in London, in Kent, in Somerset, in Wales, in Australia, in America. They all have pieces of my heart... And now T has gone, is my heart still here at Halfway-Up-A-Hill?



Actually, it is becoming clear that whatever happens, I will have to move on from Halfway-Up-A-Hill. Without T, in the long run I will not be able to manage here on my own, either financially or practically. Sure, there will be a divorce settlement and T will provide for me financially, but it will not be practical to stay here. And perhaps a new start, new surroundings would be healthy. But where should I go? I think I shall probably stay in Wales, given that I have begun to feel part of the community here. But actually, in some respects, the world is my oyster. I could settle in Wales, or decide to explore Costa Rica. I could dig in for the long haul or pack a few belongings in a knapsack and follow my feet to wherever. Do I in fact, even need roots in one place?



As with most of my life at the moment, there seem to be more questions than answers. But at least that means that there are also choices, and opportunities, and the chance to start over. Which can't be bad.

Hallowe'en in Essex

I had a wonderful Hallowe'en weekend in Essex visiting my dear friends Kevin & Ann.

We carved pumpkins and planned treats for trick or treaters...

We walked Sancha the labrador puppy in the woods, fields and by the lake, enjoying brilliant autumn leaf colours under sweeping Essex skies...

Charlotte baked yummy gingerbread pumpkins and 'spiderweb' cupcakes for us...

10-year-old Mikey went trick or treating (dressed as a Jedi knight!) and came back with plenty of sweeties to share around...

We snuggled up in the lounge to watch Hocus Pocus and drink mulled wine as a constant stream of trick-or-treaters in fabulous costumes called by...
I learned how to play Chinese chequers...

Ann kept us well-fed with her delicious cooking (I have brought home her recipe for roast parsnip soup!)...

And we talked, talked, talked, about good times past and those yet to come...

Samhain

This is my Samhain altar.

I am going to be away visiting friends in Essex for Samhain itself (sadly missing the Carmarthenshire Pagan Community ritual as a result), yet it just wouldn't be right not to have an altar dedicated to my Beloved Dead at this time of year. A bit like not having Christmas decorations I suppose!

I wrote last year about the form my personal Samhain ritual normally takes, so I won't repeat myself. But I will suggest you take a look at this video, of the Bay Area Reclaiming community's Samhain Spiral Dance ritual. This event has been held annually since 1979, and now attracts hundreds of participants (including this year, my friends Georgia, Anne-Marie & Will). I just can't imagine attending a ritual that big - the energy must be amazing. Perhaps one day I shall be able to attend. Or perhaps one day, there will be a Spiral Dance in the UK. Oh well, I can dream...



Samhain Blessings to you.

The Ordinary Becomes Extraordinary

When I was a child growing up in Essex, our most common garden birds were sparrows, starlings and blackbirds. The sparrows were endearing and cute, the blackbirds elegant. The starlings - well, they were basically the comic relief. With a comical gait and a repertoire of whistles, squeaks and squawks; squabbling so much over scraps left out for them that the cheeky sparrows would often sidle in unnoticed and grab the prize, starlings were amusing but mostly ignored by us in favour of more exotic garden visitors like blue tits and pied wagtails.



Since moving here to Wales I rarely see starlings any more, except in the winter when they sometimes appear in groups for an afternoon, and then disappear again.



Today has been damp and misty all day - not really a day for birdwatching! Yet just now as I fed the chickens their afternoon treat of mixed corn, I witnessed a truly extraordinary sight. Suddenly, as if from nowhere, a huge flock of starlings appeared and settled like a great cloud in the two biggest trees near the house. Hundreds of them filled the air with their chattering, whistling, squawking. The cats were still and silent, the chickens muttered in amazement, awe-struck by this display of bird-power.



I stood transfixed myself for several minutes, until just as suddenly as they'd come, at some invisible signal, they rose into the air with a huge rush of wings. Wheeling and swirling in the air like a whirling duststorm for a moment, they flew off into the mist and still and silence returned.



How could I ever have thought starlings dull?

Here is a video clip from Youtube which gives you some idea of the grace and beauty of a flock of starlings getting ready to roost.

Interview

The lovely and talented Tori at http://gettingit-tori.blogspot.com/ has sent me the following interview questions:

1.~ Where did you grow up? Tell me about your childhood home.
I grew up in Essex, which is the county east of London. It's mostly the kind of place people travel through to get to somewhere else, and generally has a poor image due to it's industrial areas and the soulless 'new towns' that sprung up there to accommodate people from the bombed-out areas of London after World War II. If you give it a chance though, Essex does have another side - picturesque villages, thatched cottages, arable fields, willow-lined rivers, country pubs, lonely saltmarshes and big skies, due to it's rather flat topography!

I was lucky enough to grow up in a small village, in a house Mum & Dad built themselves (my earliest memory is 'helping' build the fireplace - I must have been about 2 years old). It was next door to my maternal grandparents. We had a large garden, as did Nanna & Granddad - their plot also included a wild and overgrown apple orchard (Granddad built us a treehouse in an apple tree!), which was a great adventure playground. It was a place that really fired my imagination - I used to make elaborate palaces for the fairies out of moss, twigs and petals, play at being a spy or a gypsy, talk to the trees, pretend my bike was actually a pony called 'Silver'... really, if I hadn't had to go to school it would have been the most idyllic childhood ever!

2.~What is something about marriage, about being in a committed adult relationship that you wish you had a better understanding of growing up?
I wish I'd realised that you have to really work at marriage and relationships. My Mum and Dad made it look so easy! Realising the fairy-tale ending actually requires compromise, compassion, empathy, patience, dialogue and plain commonsense would have saved me a lot of mistakes!

3. ~What is your day job?
I wish I knew! I don't have a paid job and I never know how to answer when people ask me what I do. In the past I've been a librarian, barmaid, children's nanny, accounts clerk, receptionist, switchboard operator, customer services assistant, typist, secretary, aromatherapist, and voluntary worker at a city farm. I stopped paid employment when I was trying unsuccessfully to get pregnant and it was thought my stressful job may have been part of the problem. Since we moved to our current home I am kept busy with the house, the animals and the garden, plus I do voluntary work one day a week. I also make & sell crafts (mostly Pagan-themed) including my papier mache masks - although it's by no means a living wage!

4. ~What is your favorite form of artistic expression (for yourself to create)?
I love to create things, but I have a real butterfly mind when it comes to artistic expression - I flutter from one medium to another, getting bored if I stick to just one thing. In the past I've been passionate about creative writing, poetry, embroidery, cross-stitch, mixing aromatherapy blends, candlemaking and glass painting to name just a few. More recently there has been mask-making, decorative painting, jewellery making, felting and clay modelling. And right now I'm having a blast writing my blog and playing with T's digital camera. My approach may be a bit 'pick and mix' but I have found that I need to have some kind of creative project on the go to keep me happy. The thing that usually gives me the most artistic satisfaction though is to create something beautiful and/or useful out of something that would otherwise have been thrown out as rubbish. I love to recycle!

5. ~What is a goal that you hope to accomplish in the next year?
I would love to get something I've written published - and preferably get paid for it! I would also like the opportunity to student teach at an overseas Witchcamp.

What fantastic questions - thanks Tori!

Want me to interview you?

1. Leave me a comment saying "Interview me."

2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.

3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.

4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.

5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.