ITN, a little click, and covid

 Back in 2017 B made a brief appearance on ‘News at Ten’. He had just happened to be in the bank whilst some reporters were there, and he was interviewed by them. The interview was a matter of seconds, but there he had been speaking on television in his everyday voice, the voice I still cannot hear. I was reminded of this some months ago, when I was reading my diary and came across the date. So, I thought I would see if it was possible to get a copy of the report. Expecting to be disappointed, I contacted ITV. They got back to me almost immediately and told me that I needed to contact Getty. I emailed Getty, and they came back to me very promptly telling me that I needed to contact ITN. So, over the next weeks and months I sent several enquiries to ITN using their online forms and various email addresses. Not a dicky bird; not one reply! I have to say, this didn’t impress me, particularly as ITV and Getty had responded so quickly and been so helpful. Well, last week, I decided to have one last ditch attempt and actually rang ITN. It wasn’t clear which option I needed to choose in their sophisticated automated menu, and I found myself put through to their News Desk! I didn’t think this was the right place, but I’d got nothing to lose so I explained my reason for calling. Well, the kind person I spoke with said she could perfectly understand why I would like a copy of the recording and would see what she could do. Well, low and behold, the next day I received a ‘WeTransfer’ of the relevant clip. It’s not long, and there’s nothing special about it, except of course there absolutely is! There’s B talking as he would talk with me, in his everyday voice. I am so grateful. It’s only a few seconds but it makes me happy!

The other morning, I was lying in bed, fully awake, just about to get up when I heard a little click. I knew immediately, without thinking about it, that it was B’s wedding ring tapping against the banister but, of course, it wasn’t! Such a familiar sound, another of those everyday noises that no longer happen and that I don’t even realise I miss until something like this happens. I still don’t know what it was, and it hasn’t happened again, but for a moment it reminded me of his presence in those everyday moments that I barely noticed when he was here... A small moment of joy.

Well, I guess it was inevitable but I have, at last, succumbed to covid. It’s frustrating as I have had to cancel a few things that I was looking forward to, but so be it. Fortunately, I managed to sing at the Festival Hall before I tested positive, although the choir and soloists were somewhat ravaged by the virus (I probably caught covid at an earlier rehearsal!). And, it was good. Yes, it brought back memories of all the times B and I had been there together. Yes, there were some poignant parts in the music. Yes, I missed B being there to hear me sing with the choir, but I gathered myself together and it was an enjoyable and positive experience. And I don’t say this very often, but I was proud of myself for being part of it. And, I think B would have been proud of me, too.

Anyway, I was feeling pretty rubbish for the first few days after testing positive and, consequently, missed B and his care of me. Surprisingly, though, on the whole, I felt ok emotionally. What with feeling tired and somewhat rough, I half-expected that I would feel generally miserable in my grief but, fortunately, that didn’t happen. Perhaps my brain knew that it had enough to deal with! It was rather a relief as my nose and throat were congested enough already without the added complication of crying! Yes, I’ve stopped myself shedding tears a couple of times, which isn’t always a good thing, but needs must! While I’ve been at home with covid, though, it has felt as though I have become a little more balanced, more sanguine. Perhaps oddly, B has felt a little nearer and I have felt more content, more able to smile at the memories of things said and done. I have felt those continuing bonds that others talk about - it’s really hard to explain, but it’s something about being able to maintain the connection we had whilst also letting go a little. I have been trying to reflect as to why this change might have happened, and the only thing I can come up with is that, perhaps, it’s because I have just been able ‘to be’, whilst I’ve been feeling unwell. I haven’t been placing any expectations on myself. It has been a pause in the usual daily realisation of grief / life. Perhaps I’ve been trying too hard to make sure I process my grief, rather than just letting it play out of its own accord. Who knows? Whatever the reason, I am grateful for the change, and hope it continues.

While I’ve been laid-low I haven’t felt like doing much other than lying in front of the television and dozing, though I tried to avoid daytime television! Anyway, on Saturday afternoon, the 1946 version of ‘Great Expectations’ happened to be on. It’s some years since I’d seen it, so I decided to watch it. Probably most will remember how Miss Havisham, heartbroken after having been jilted at the altar, remains in her wedding dress in her decaying house, with all the clocks stopped, resolved not to move beyond her sorrow. What I had forgotten, though, was how Estella, her adopted daughter, almost got sucked in to living a similar life, but how she was ‘rescued’ by Pip and enabled to carry on with her life. Of course, I still miss B, such an understatement, but I am also aware, that if I allow it, to some extent he is also my rescuer. This probably sounds strange, an oxymoron. I continue to grieve for him, but I also ‘hear’ him telling me that I need to move forward and live the rest of my life. I know that I will become, am already becoming, more used to his absence. Sometimes that feels okay, at other times not, but, like the Rossetti poem, I know he would rather I forget him and be happy, than remember him and be sad. What I actually hope is that I can remember him and be happy, whilst moving forward. I don’t want to forget! And maybe, just maybe, another ‘rescuer’ will come along and help me find that renewed, fulfilling life, just as happened for B with me. Or, maybe it won’t happen, but I shall do my best to continue to move forward, anyway, and live the life I’m meant to live. Some days that’s easier than others, but one step in front of the other…