the wonder of acceptance

My mum died just over a year ago.

I have finally escaped the heart-searing, breath-taking pain that followed her death. And my shattered pieces have come together again. But she is still the person I go to call when something goes either terribly wrong or brilliantly right. And I have not yet been able to take her number out of my phone or delete the last text she ever sent me.

Still, I glimpse moments of acceptance, where I am able, just for a short while, to accept what is. To see my loss as part of a bigger picture, over which I have no control. To just be.

The other day I went swimming at my local pool. It’s old school and since it was a cold, grey, threatening day, there were hardly any other folk around. About halfway through my laps it started raining. I had left my (open) bag and towel sitting on the concrete and from behind my foggy goggles, could see everything getting wet. But instead of rushing to fix things, as I normally would, I just kept on swimming. And then, when I finished, I sat in the shallow end, took off my goggles and watched.

Nothing had been so perfect for a very, very long time.