Furlough is a strange time that is neither holidays nor my
normal work. It is a time of speaking at churches, thanking and updating the
people who support me in the work I do. It is two months of catching up with
two years of stories and connections.
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| New life |
It is this reconnecting that is the exhausting part, as I
cram two years of social connections into a series of short visits. All the events which I would usually
spread over two years are experienced in the space of two months. Often they
are things I’ve heard about, but until you sit down with someone and cry about
the loss of a loved one, or give a cuddle to a newborn loved one, it is not
quite real.
Furlough is a rollercoaster of life and death, on scales
both large and small.
There is death in visiting those who are starting to lose
their clarity to Alzheimer’s disease. I had heard that they are going downhill,
but did not know what to expect. Apparently it was a good day, with thoughts
and memories more in order than at other times, but it was still the death of a
part of the person who I used to know. I wonder what our meeting in two years
will be like.
There is life in seeing children two years older than they
were. Their vocabulary has increased, their independence and inquisitiveness is
wonderful to see.
There are the deaths I knew about, and those that are
surprises. In a church that I attended for a year, I knew that diabetes had
claimed the life of a single woman in her thirties. It was only when I was
there in person that I found that influenza had claimed the life of another
single woman, also in her mid thirties. There are only a few of us in that demographic
in the congregation, so for two of my age-mates to be suddenly gone is quite a
reality check.
There are the many new lives which have been announced with
delight. Some of them have also been photos on my fridge, videos through the
mail or even a blurry face on skype, but until they are someone who I can
cuddle or read a book to, they are a theory rather than a reality. I know my
friends have been becoming parents while I was away, but it is hard to
comprehend until it is lived.
There are the deaths of friendships as we have gone our own
way over the years. There are the difficult decisions as to which friendships
to invest my limited Australian time in renewing and which to allow to drift,
knowing that in another two years, it will probably be too long to really
reconnect. There are the elderly, who if I do not connect with them now, may
not be able to again.
There are grand plans that have worked and hopes that have
failed. There are new starts and lost opportunities. New houses, new
relationships, new jobs, new passions.
There is the new life in the family, as I held my newborn
nephew, the first in the clan to do so, even if I’m usually the overseas Auntie.
This cycle of life and death is normal. What is difficult is
squeezing the highs and lows into a short time frame and continuing to care,
even though it is exhausting.
