Welcome to the Sunday Scene

26 May 2008

Greetings on this wet and windy Whit Monday.

As ever, talking this evening to some of our club members, I’m reminded that especially for those recently widowed, a bank holiday is more like three or four Sundays all rolled into one.  Even if previously, with our partner, nothing much happened at bank holidays, it’s the doing nothing together that we miss so much.  Nowadays, if nothing else is planned, I store up a few treats for myself for such occasions; an especially good book, a DVD I’ve wanted to see for ages, a trip to a local garden centre to check out seasonal plants, an overhaul of my wardrobe, time to ‘play’ at something I really enjoy and can lose myself in or cheerful ‘phone calls to others in a similar situation. As ever, the secret is in the preparation.

Today, partly inspired by a recently published book written by a dear friend, I felt compelled to write a poem – the first for many years.  It coincided with a similarly creative urge to compose music.  Now I haven’t played an instrument in many years but over the winter, having acquired a keyboard, I’ve been tackling music up to Grade 4 level. My technique is poor indeed but helped by choral singing, the sight reading is somewhat better.  Initially the only music I possessed was easy to play Christmas Carols and I’ll certainly be well prepared for next December, but the library now includes popular songs, the classics and even a bit of blues. Two hours or more can pass as I struggle with brain, hand, eye co-ordination, note values, sharps and flats and especially tempi, mine being invariably ‘slow’, but the concentration and focus required cuts out all other mental chatter, leaving me feeling satisfied and uplifted.  I imagine this is so with any absorbing interest. Yesterday I set aside all the written music, closed my eyes and simply let my hands wander freely up and down the keys with interesting results – some  harmonious and others – well!  However, it was this that fuelled the desire to compose and for that I needed lyrics – hence a poem.

All this illustrates how time does heal and how, little by little, sensitivity returns. It’s in the smile that having of late been no more than an unfeelingly automatic and polite response begins once again to reach the eyes; or the return of the once familiar fluttering of joy at the sight or sound of something beautiful – almost like the ‘quickening’ women experience as the foetus in the womb suddenly springs to life. The “Ah yes, I remember,” responses become more frequent along with recollection of how one used to be. It all takes time, can’t be hurried and happens at different times for different people so love and be patient with  yourself and know that the grief will lessen with time.

Jacquie