Tear the facade away. Open the beating heart and rip out the chambers filled with essence of youth. Ring the timer on life itself and give the last call. Drinks are on me.
As I confess my lack of elegance and maturity when dealing with death, I giggle at the obscure emotion – mourning. My mouth fills with bile as I try to swallow down reality whilst portraying calmness for those around me. Cry, scream, shred the walls down – do something but don’t sit still. Watching doctors dictate destiny diligently to delinquent daughters whilst they fight and strain not to cry through the news that Mummy is not coming back makes me admire the strength and emotional blackout doctors manage with each patient.
If my mother survives this week I confess I might have the pleasure of visiting the hospital and maybe poking the austere arrogance right out of his checkered shirt. I had a doctor friend like that once. Is that what young doctors grow into? Arrogant unemotional consultants? I blame death for the changes.
On a lighter note than death, I must confess I miss celebrating Valentines Day. Yup, I’m a romantic and love to be romanced. Nothing expensive or ridiculous but a little effort doesn’t hurt. We lie to ourselves that we don’t like a little romance and throw stones at the idea of naming a special day. Ever heard of birthdays and anniversaries? Special days people…all special days to commemorate love. If you’re single there is nothing stopping you from giving a stranger something nice to smile about on this day – nothing weird though! Share the love through kindness. That could be done on any day but let’s start with one and work from there. Small steps.
Okay, your turn. Some of you shared your confessions last week. Thank you for being brave. I’ve shared my fear of dealing with death and passion for celebrating love. What’s your confession?