If you have stumbled across my blog and are thinking ‘Day 10’ of what? Have a quick read about my challenge.

Back at my desk, this time, it is early morning, six am. I am an early bird, following in my father’s footsteps. A farmer. The early bird catches the worm and all that. Dad has always told me, “The best weather is in the morning.” In England, that is often the case, but not so much in Barbados, where I am currently. Torrential rain is the standard morning routine. On a good day, that clears the air and the way for a good day. Of late, it has rained on and off all day.

Before I digress. I will start part 2. I finished yesterday’s post saying I would tell you why my children and I all had ‘Carpe Diem’ tattoos. Day 9

Already, I am swallowing hard and sweating, my palms in particular.

A quick note: this will be a concise version. The aim of my challenge is to write every day, as opposed to give you in-depth versions of events. That will come when I write my book. It will also allow me to ’embrace the nettle’ Day 8 gradually so as not to have another mental breakdown.

The date: 11th July 2017. My son’s 19th birthday. He was not interested. He was broken, his heart shattered, the splinters of which penetrated my soul every time I looked at him. It shouldn’t be this way. How is it right that I still have my father and my children don’t? Along with feeling my children’s pain, guilt creeps in. Despite several attempts to block it. Despite my logical mind saying it was not my fault. It latched itself to me like the tentacles of an octopus. It wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

It had only been a few weeks since my daughter and I held Bruce’s hand as he took his final breath. Surrounded by many family members. I swear we were all holding our breath in time with Bruce. The gaps between breaths became painfully long. The breaths themselves laboured and hoarse. In the silence, we wondered if we had just witnessed his final breath, relieving him, in our hearts we wanted that for him. Stop the pain. At the same time, our ears desperately searching for another breath to know he hadn’t left us forever. The conflict inside me was pitiful. The inevitable came. The silence was drowned by the cascade of tears. 

Death is so final.

The morning of the 11th came. It was unavoidable. One day follows the previous; that’s the way it goes. What was I going to do? How could I alleviate the sadness? I couldn’t. Then I had an idea. Fortunately, during the month preceding this day, my children and I had built a bond never to be broken. “Let’s cement it,” I thought. Let’s become one in a way that will always not only join us but also honour the man whose death had left us empty. My son loves tattoos. it seemed the obvious answer. I love the phrase “carpe Diem’ at school I had enjoyed Latin. I even won the Latin prize once. If only they had known at that stage that I would walk out of my o’level mock exam after having written only my name, never to attend another Latin lesson in my life. They probably would have thought twice.

For me, ‘Carpe Diem’ says it all. ‘Seize the day’; essentially, that is all you have. You can only live now, not in the future, not in the past. I decided I would arrange for the three of us to have a tatto done that day, I typed out Carpe Diem in a selection of fonts and then went to my daughter to ask her thoughts on both my idea and the best style. She agreed with me that it was a good way forward. We chose the font we liked with the intention of allowing my son the final choice.

Together, we went to his room. The piece of paper held tight in my shaking hand. He agreed. I could feel the relief fill my body. Something good was going to come from this day. We got an appointment. Took our turns. The kids ridiculed me for having my first tattoo but, at the same time, lovingly showed concern for the pain I may be enduring as the tattoo was being injected into scar tissue. It wasn’t painful. How could it be when I had witnessed one of the strongest people I know fade to nothing, his body infested with pain.

We left the parlour knowing no matter what happened from then on, we were united. We still are.

If you would like to join me on this journey, please like, subscribe and comment.

Thanks, Liz

For anyone reading my posts who has a story in them they are struggling to tell. I would recommend getting Anne Lamott’s book ‘Bird by Bird’. It has inspired me to create this challenge and is full of great knowledge and insight. She also has a wonderful sense of humour and writing style.

If you would like to buy ‘Bird by Bird’, please feel free to use my Amazon associate link: https://amzn.to/47Pdkx7