At the very end of my winter holiday, I went to London. It was fabulous. I went to all these historical and meaningful places. I sat in on Parliament and listened to them call each other "My Honorable Gentlemen/Lady, or my Honorable Friend". I saw an almost exact recreation of Shakespeare's Globe Theatre. There is a palpable sense of time continuance in London. It has been there, it is there, and it will be for a while. I went to the Tower of London and having gotten on a huge Elizabeth I kick in the past, I was so enthralled by the carvings on the walls where people had been imprisoned. THERE! RIGHT THERE! They carved that, before they possibly died soon after.
You can't help but think of people that have passed on when walking around places like these; I was also thinking of another one in particular.
I was thinking of my mother. My mother and sister went to the British Isles when Grace was about 14. They did all these things that I have seen in pictures, but this was the first time my travels in Europe had overlapped with theirs. Yes I was thinking about Anne Boleyn and the Earl of Leicester but I was also seeing my mother pass in between the figures in the crowd.
Later I went to Platform 9 3/4. This was harder still. I'd spoken so many times to my mother (especially in my believing years until that fateful day of my 11th birthday) about going to King's Cross and slipping through unnoticed. Or simply seeing it, perhaps catching a glimpse of someone on the off chance that I was a muggle.
It's hard. It's been a while since things can be directly related to my mom. 5 years have passed, I've grown up, moved away (three times) and turned into someone else. Some of you make fun of my Harry Potter (how shall we say it) commitment, but it has this very thick emotional connection to the little ten year girl that was given those books by her mother. I hold to things where she is still real. I mean being in France, there are so many things I want to tell her but if I did get to call her up right now, she would be so lost in the conversation. But not if I spoke about London or our past/future plans that we had. As time passes, some of the pain eases, mentally being able to understand that she's not around. But also, it only gets harder, because the realization keeps popping up at the most important moments in life that gone and forever are hard words.
It's been a hard week in France for various reasons, I would REALLY enjoy some frosted mini-wheats, or any other healthy comfort food. The distance is becoming very clear to me. And, it is far.
"Clair de Lune" Claude DeBussy