Lockdown began with loss. The loss of the man, who had created four magnificent lives with me, making me a mother. Initially lockdown signalled the loss of laughter and a certain kind of security, love and family-ship. My companion, friend, father of my children was diagnosed with terminal cancer, stage four a day before lockdown. I went on automatic. Isn’t that what we women do? We somehow feel responsible. My youngest son was still in his twenties, and not to have his Papa in his life was unthinkable for him. I wanted to apologise to him, for what? That his father had died and he shouldn’t have, not for many years? Yes. I wanted to.
Love Again
He had been a part of my life since I was seventeen years old, and suddenly he was gone and the country was in lockdown. It pains me referring to him in past tense. I ache at the thought of no new memories to create, how to cope with the grief? But lockdown was actually good for my bereavement process. It allowed me space and time. I started painting my home, which I found therapeutic. I journaled and bled onto pages, which I dated and timed to record this insurmountable grief that took a different shape each day. I created a routine of early morning yoga, writing and Zoom meetings. Without lockdown I never would have found time for my new love, gardening. That week of glorious sunshine we had, and seeing three of my friends’ green fingers at work in their gardens, ignited an interest I’d never met. I mean, I enjoy sitting in the sunshine in gardens, admiring the beauty of nature, I totally get tree hugging, talking to trees and plants, but never thought I had the green finger touch, even though my parents were both avid gardeners. The excitement of my two friends explaining about growing pumpkins, spinach, tomatoes, callaloo and cucumbers, and their pride in giving me samples and seeds and praying for ‘rain’ for their gardens, gave me the bug. The very next day I was down B&Q, socially distancing in a long queue buying pots and soil, then onto the internet to research what I’m going to be growing – it was mind-blowing, and another avenue of therapy during my bereavement process and lockdown.
Six months later I have two Aloe Vera plants at home that I converse with daily, and both of them sit on the window ledge in my kitchen like two magnificent green goddesses.
For most, what began as something temporary is now an ongoing, ever evolving situation with no clear solutions in sight. 2020 has certainly been a bag of shocks and an introduction to a new normal way of life, lockdown being one of them.