Things change with a speed that frightens me, faster than I had dreamt. They change, not with dramatic suddenness in the depths of a night; but always in the cold milky sunshine of a new day. Stealing hope, and the strained childish belief, that bad things don’t happen under the watchful gaze of a benevolent sun. If they happened in the night it would be easier, I think. To be fractured in the smothering darkness. So the pieces couldn’t fly too far away. Kept safe, instead, beneath the duvet. Maybe it’s more human to cry yourself to sleep in the deep hours of darkness. To have the first purge of private, soul-torn tears flooding into the pillow. So that all you can feel is damp cotton and all you can smell is the sweet salt. Then you wake-up, stretch puffy-faced into the next day with one small piece of yourself intact again, reshaped and fresh. The gaping wound of loss still raw, but beginning to heal. But it doesn’t happen like that. Instead it happens when there is nowhere to hide and nothing to keep all the pieces of you from splintering and getting lost in sharp shards of sunlight. So you can never be fully remade. – Writing Wolf
Okay, so this is the Daily Prompt for today. “Walking down the street, you encounter a folded piece of paper on the sidewalk. You pick it up and read it and immediately, your life has changed.”
I was really tempted to dismiss it for the day and do something else. Or put it aside and come back to it this evening. I wanted to write a ‘proper’ blog post for today. So I closed down the prompt and went back to something else, checking my Facebook on the way. I didn’t see it coming, but something on Facebook just changed me.
Last week I wrote of my pride for my Sister in her cake making enterprise. She’s a fabulous lady, you all know that now, or you should! She’s brill. What I didn’t mention last week, was her sudden, but fierce determination to complete a triathlon in just over two months’ time. She’s crazy! Literally, raving mad.
Of course, I think that her goal is amazing and I know that she can do it. (She’s one determined cookie) However, I’m much more of a sit-body and I think I’d have to be driven to the top of the mountain, or at least carried. I’m an outdoorsy type person, but far too lazy to run a triathlon- that takes some serious dedication! However, My Sisters enviable goal, is not what changed me. She will be running, crawling, canoeing, cycling for charity.
I’m a wordy person, full of words and verbs and vocabulary, but even if I lived another hundred years, I don’t think I could find the right words to describe losing a loved one to Cystic Fibrosis. But I had a go a few years ago. I’m a spiritual person, not someone necessarily religious, but I knew an angel on earth. A rare and special person who truly touched the life of everyone that she met. My sister will be raising money in memory of our much loved cousin.
Cystic Fibrosis Ireland is totally dependent on fundraising and voluntary donations, is the body responsible for the provision of a wide range of services to the Cystic Fibrosis community in the Republic of Ireland. My sister can be sponsored here: Sponsor A Crazy Lady
Some things in my life need to change. For the last few months I’ve (spookily) been having vague day dreams of what I could do to raise money for CF. My sister’s Facebook announcement has just kicked me into gear. I need to do something.
What can I do?
As soon as I work it out, I’ll let you know – but suggestions are always appreciated!