Another year passes and my senses focus back in on the dream that was borne and lost so long ago now.
It has been nine years today since Ellanor was born and made us sit up and take notice. Of ourselves, of each other, of the significance in the life in all things, right down to the finest blade of grass by the roadside. In these intervening years, I have sought strength and comfort in a great many things, my aim being to share what I found and how I actually came to (quite early on) find my peace. I’m still unsure if I ever explained all that adequately, but it will have to be enough. But if I ever thought the magic in her coming had been well and truly done and dusted now, I would be mistaken. This life is orchestrated so minutely, the present so interwoven with events from long ago, that only once I reach the point of closing another door to the past do I fully appreciate the absolute beauty of the learning that is to be found in all sorts of painful lessons.
One of the few teachers around me who would have had the strength not to shy away from this ordeal was actually out of my life this entire time. For ten years, we were estranged by … well, I still don’t know. Besides, the reason is no longer relevant. The point is, this person wasn’t there. And yet… she was! Just tantalizingly out of my reach. I’m not talking about Ellanor this time. No, I’m talking about my stepmother. Although we had not been on speaking terms (rather, I wanted desperately to speak with her and have a relationship with her but she had stepped away most definitely and remained mysteriously and consistently distant and cold for reasons unexplained and still largely unknown to me), it was she – even through the estrangement – who wrote and offered us this most magnificent story which might very well have Ella’s, Steve’s and my names in it but is a message with universal implications, all the same.
If you haven’t read the true fairytale “Little Ella: A Universal Love Story” yet, it’s about time you did I should think. Especially today, in honour of her 9th birthday.
Anyway, all this time while I have been reading and studying and learning, I have felt separated from my stepmother by some necessary, unexplained, force. It’s not been the first (nor is it possibly the last) estrangement of its kind in my life. But this one has smarted the most. She was my closest confidante when we parted ways, if not physically (for there was always the common connection of my father) then certainly energetically. I was confused and would be lying if I said I didn’t sometimes wonder how it could be that someone who seemed to “get” so much of how this strange and beautiful world ticks, and sought meaning in whatever she didn’t understand yet, could be so seemingly callous as to not even come together with me over my child’s death.
Most of all, I wondered how it could be that I had this word scholar (one of two in the family, this one married in, as you might remember Dad is a dying breed of top notch editor) who would never read the book I had penned about my universal journey through grief.
Well. Never say never, I’m here to remind you. Two months ago I got the message that my stepmother is dying. Is, in fact, very ill with secondary tumours that are taking hold quite vigorously and giving her a good chance to get last affairs in order. There was no question, I needed to go to my father’s side. But the unknown was… would I be welcome at hers?
Without thinking about it terribly much, I moved through the doors of my own pained ego and stepped into the embrace of a dying person eager to reconnect. The spell had been broken – although for the record, I never saw a frog prince get kissed – and the shackles dropped away. Being who we are, because this is just what we do, the two of us immediately came together eager to draw a defining line in the sand that symbolised “No slipping back” but allowed room to ask burning questions or express pains. I had just one: “You never read my book and when I found out you were dying, I thought you never would.”
Her tears sprang out like jetstreams. Of course she would love to read it! This Plant woman, who has spent a lifetime reading and studying and learning, this fount of knowledge on the Plant Kingdom and the energy of the Faer Realm, this believer of the importance of spell-making and spell-breaking, all for the sake of the continuation of this golden planet we live on… she is going to read my offering now. I’m almost choking on the opportunity here and couldn’t print it off fast enough for her. Time’s a-wastin’ when you know you’re leaving soon!
Significant paths through any – ANY – hardship or estrangements in your life are being constantly given to you. Sometimes, with all that has befallen me that is just so beyond my control even if I wanted to try and control it (for who is powerful enough to control or prevent death?), I have to remind myself while I am in it that this too shall pass. This is not a test, not in my view. This is life. Simple – and simply complicated – as that. No stage rehearsal, we are living the real thing every day. When it’s shit, yes it’s shit. And it can get really… really shit. But it’s still not a practice run. You don’t get to do over that exact day ever again. In some respects, thank goodness for that, ‘eh?!
I have learned one thing from this reconnection if nothing else: Life is a fairytale, if we choose to see it. Fairytales aren’t always sweet and light (but they have their moments). They can be dark and downright grisly. They can be scary and confronting. The messages are there, and it is our choice how (or if) we interpret them as we go along with them.
And as I type, my daughters’ story – and that of Steve’s and mine – is sitting in transit somewhere, most likely in the post sorting plant, on its way to the lap of a woman whose insights I have highly regarded since I was 15 years old. May her spark and her will be with her until all her Earthly plans have come to pass.
They may be gruesome and downright sad at times. But fairytales can also come true, you know. And in her own words, my stepmother quite accurately says:
“People can eventually handle things when they have the common language of story.”
What’s your story?
(and don’t worry, that’s merely a rhetorical… unless, of course, you want to share in the comments)
Our birthday girl. Thankyou, Sweetpea x
Happy 9th birthday Ella!
I would love to think of my story as a fairytale with my sweet angel princess and the saving grace of my princes.
Lots of love to you, Steve and Lolly <3
Thank you, dear Amaly. xxx Always remembering Mariam.
But Kirrily,
How can we just be living our days with all this enormity hanging around?
It might be too big for me to acknowledge.
Happy Birthday Ellanor.
oxox
But you see, I think just living our days is the best thing to do with all the enormity, the only thing to do.
The only thing. Yes. And doing it consciously is even better (for you and the world).
Sometimes it IS too big to acknowledge… all in one gulp. That is why living it, the bit-by-bit method, helps you stay grounded but always living your truth. I think it’s when we try and take on the enormity of life (or our current troubles, battles, conflicts, illnesses, etc etc) that we conjure up unnecessary and life-depleting illusions of our real selves. And in those different versions of ourselves that we have to keep up with, depending who we’re around or how we want to be seen (for instance), we are slipping further from our real strength. Be the heroine in your own fairytale!
xxx
So glad that, near the end of her story, your stepmother is once more becoming a large part of your story. Reconnection is a universally wonderful thing.
I just read your stepmother’s ‘most magnificent story’ and then looked at the photo of Ellanor. So beautiful, thank you little Ella.
Thank you so much for taking the time, Megan. It’s deeply appreciated.
Sweetest birthday wishes to your heavenly princess xx
I love how you “Without thinking about it terribly much…moved through the doors of my own pained ego…” I believe that is magic right there and available to ALL of us if only we’d 1) not think too much and 2) leave our ego behind.
So glad you reconnected with your stepmother during this precious time.
I’m currently sharing some of my story in an email to you, not finished yet.
I look forward to it, Judi. Often wonder how you are going.
You’ve totally hit the nail on the intended head (not that I ever start these things with any intention… but sometimes, by the end of writing them, they’ve taken on a meaning of their own and I do wonder sometimes if anyone really gets what I”m saying! You have here)
so beautiful…happy birthday to your baby – what an amazing path you have walked and continue to walk xx
Wow, 9 years. Thinking of you always at this time of year and in the month that follows. I am so plased to read of your reconnection with this special woman and that she will read your precious gift afterall. Whatever the blockage was in the past doesn’t matter now. Hugs to you dear lady xox