Do you ever look forward to something and when it happens you realise the anticipation was almost as good as the event? The waiting, and imagining. The time spent watching the calendar and mentally ticking off the days.
Equally there are days looming in our future which we dread. I wonder when they come will it work the same way? Will they be as awful as we thought they might be, or was the anticipation of them worse than the actual day?
In my near future I have a couple of difficult days looming. One of them happens tomorrow. It will be the last official time I will be visiting my old pal, who my friend and I have been visiting once a week. He is leaving Ireland on Monday. Emigrating at 83 to live with family. There are just days left.
I have spent the week not thinking about it, or trying to not think about it. I have tried not thinking about in the house, or at the pool. In the car or in bed. I have tried to make sure I do not imagine walking in and hearing his cheery ‘Hallo Tric’. I have tried not imagining making our final coffee and tea, hearing him joke with my other friend about me, and listening to him tell us another few stories. Our final helping. I have tried not imagining watching him bravely do his best to disguise the fact that his heart is breaking before our eyes, as he speaks of leaving his home, his country and his friends. And most of all I have tried not to imagine our final hug and the final time I hear, ‘love ye’. As you can guess I am failing miserably at trying not to imagine all my friend and I will face tomorrow.
I can only hope that my imaginings are more real and painful than tomorrow will be. However I’m not too sure.
Deep breath. Nearly there. I am determined. I will enjoy our morning. I will not make it any harder for him than it is. I will try not to cry.
Wish me luck! And for those of you who know me well personally, or through my writing you will understand me when I say.. ‘Feck, this is pox’.