by Bill Harper on May 4, 2012
Eight years ago today my mother passed away.
I can still remember a lot about that day. The phone call from my father telling me about the second stroke. Telling Lynda. Sending my lecturer an email to say I wouldn’t be in class that evening. The long drive to Ipswich hospital.
Hugging my father when I arrived. And my sister, her eyes red from tears and lack of sleep. Holding my mother’s hand and talking to her while they both went home to rest. Calling them both back to the hospital after being told my mother wasn’t going to make it.
In the final hours, trying to function as normally as we could, knowing full well things would never be normal again. Sensing our mother in pain, asking for more morphine, all the while watching the numbers on the various displays counting down.
And then that horrible drawn-out tone that tells you the fight is over.
The drive home seemed even longer, despite the roads being practically empty at that time of night. Listening to Ultravox’s “Dancing with tears in my eyes” and fighting back my own.
Dancing with tears in my eyes
Weeping for the memory of a life gone by
Dancing with tears in my eyes
Living out a memory of a love that died
by Bill Harper on April 23, 2012
When Angie and I first got together back in November, we knew it would be tough being so far apart.
Unfortunately neither of us realised just how tough it was going to be.
Thanks to the Internet there are now dozens of ways to keep in touch with people—email, Twitter, Skype, etc. And as far as friendships go, that’s pretty much all you need.
But when you’re in a relationship it’s not enough. You want to actually be with each other so you can hold hands, share moments together, and be there when your partner wants to be hugged or even just held. And that’s the one aspect of bringing people closer together the Internet hasn’t solved yet.
As I said in my earlier post, we both have kids and other commitments that stop us from packing up and moving to another country any time soon. And while being together for two or three weeks when we can afford a plane ticket is nice, it’s not enough.
And so, regrettably, we’ve ended the relationship and are no longer together.
Before I flew to the UK we promised each other we’d stay friends no matter what, and we’re keeping that promise. Admittedly it’s taking a bit of time for me to adjust, but I’m getting there.
Yes, it’s sad the relationship ended over something so seemingly trivial as geography. But we still had an incredible time together, and I for one will cherish those moments forever.
As Dr. Seuss wrote, “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened”.