It was so hard to say goodbye to my brother - exposing old raw memories of other partings....when he left us to go to boarding school in England....ends of adult holidays....station platforms, airport barriers, roadsides, harbours. But this time at least it was us leaving him., waving from the boat till he was out of sight...knowing he is where he wants to be... where his heart is.....with his partner....in his true home.
The five hour journey back to Taveuni was beautifully calm and easy and no - one was seasick.....and we were even blessed by a pair of dolphins leaping by the bows.
This is the hotel where we stayed in absolute luxury...
the view from our chalet....
the use of a wonderful swimming pool,
surrounded by gorgeous gardens... frangipani....
hibiscus...
don't know.....
more hibiscus...
and mulberry trees.
The tapa cloth bedspread....
the open air ensuite shower....
the Pina Colada cocktail ( plus folded napkin in water glass) before
pizza supper in the hotel restaurant....easing ourselves back into 'real' life after 2 weeks in the quietness of an ashram.....
where the focus is on ritual and contemplation and how to live in a spiritual community....albeit with all its worldly practical problems to overcome.
And at first, although I so appreciated the beauty and comfort and service all around me on Taveuni..... and I didn't miss being constantly hot and sweaty and dirty and mozzie-bitten .... I did miss the sense of purpose and intention and the kindness and humour and devotion of the people I met and spent time with on Naituba.
Sunday.
I walk in the drizzly, warm rain
on the sea front at
Lyme Regis.
Re-tracing a thousand footsteps I took with Robin over the years on these paths, on these pebbles....acutely aware that this day is an anniversary -24th September - it's eleven months now....impossible to believe it.
Later at home I start reading my blog of this time last year September 2016....bringing it all back...I read it long into the night going further and further back....till I find the post I wrote sometime in July when we had a visit from the MND nurse. When I asked her how advanced she thought Robin was in the journey of his disease she said he could have a year to eighteen months to live.
She couldn't have known it would be so soon...but now I realise I was holding on to that year as if it was a prediction...believing, trusting we had lots of time really ....ignoring what was happening in front of my eyes...his tiredness....his dying.
So I'm still grabbing at straws...still wishing with such an ache in my belly that we'd had more time ...just a bit more time ...just a few more days...just a bit longer so I could have got ready for his leaving, prepared myself somehow so I could have said goodbye properly....
So now I wouldn't have this bottomless wishing well carved in my heart...however many coins I throw in there, the answer is always the same. Nothing to bargain with. It's too late.
Empty wishes .....I know in my head I couldn't have known or done more than I did. That Robin is in his true home now.
I've tried telling that to my stubborn heart....but she's not listening.
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