The Reward is the Journey

I wake up.  It's Saturday.  And she's not here to share the weekend that has yet to happen. This is now a familiar tape that has been playing out most weekends since September.  There have, of course, been exceptions.  The weekends that I've been away.  Those weekends on which I've had work commitments which have taken me out of London.  The break I spent on the other side of the world over New Year.  These times have felt different.  Saturday mornings in London don't yet feel quite right. Something occurs to me.  I think to call her.  I reach for my phone, but before I do, I remember.  Again.  And again.  Her number is no longer available.   I am briefly and repeatedly disorientated.  It feels unfair.  It isn't.  Life isn't.   I am adjusting.  Grief is a process.  A process that is unfolding.  Sometimes quickly.  Often slowly.  I have no say as to its pace...

And so, she is gone.  We have said goodbye to one another in this life.  Sitting beside her in hospital with lines trailing from both her hands, I realised that all that needed to be said had been said.   Death gives clarity to life.  Suddenly all is so wonderfully clear.  Meaning, purpose and passion are everything. Charlotte has always shown me what it is that really matters.  These are the lessons I get to keep for life:  Do what matters.  Every day.  Forget everything else. Life's too short to rush through it.  Pause awhile to stand in the awe of its beauty and get to know those spirits who make the world a beautiful place. I have had the great privilege of getting to know one such woman. Hours after she passed away, swimming came naturally.  Her effortless grace got me to the poolside far earlier that morning than normal.  The water was peaceful and calm.  Those within it, perhaps less so. ...

And so, chemo is over.  My best friend's diary has been chocker...  Line cleans, blood tests, scans and 18 weekly doses of the gruelling treatment itself.  Summer seems at last to have arrived and with it, we hope, some time, peace and space. She is, we acknowledged over a rather yummy luncheon served to us beneath the beautiful canopy of creepers and climbers at Petersham Nurseries, an inspiration. A small group of us gathered to celebrate her forthcoming marriage.  The sun's rays joined the warmth we all have for this very special woman.  Warmth and, in my case at least, pride. It is the greatest privilege to call this woman my best friend.  She continues to epitomise my understanding of grace.  Our bodies are fragile things.  Our minds are frailer still.  In her composure and wisdom, she possesses an outlook I can only aspire to adopt.  From you, dear Charlotte, I learn and I learn and I learn.   The ...

Birthdays are important.  Mine included.  Tho' it falls precariously between Christmas and New Year in recent years I have thrown caution to the wind and marked this thing called the ageing process on or close to the day itself trusting that whomsoever should be there will be there. And so it was this year...  I celebrated my birthday amongst family and friends.  It was a lovely evening during which we shared good food, yummy cakes, and laughter.  Sitting around a large oval table were 18 very important people, each of whom has played a significant part in making the last year a special one. When seeking to gather a group for such a purpose, one must be wise to the fact that life happens and plans change:  I was not to know exactly how many people would be attending until the day, and that was fine.  There are things that merit worrying about.  This was never to be one of them.  For things, I have found, more often than not, work ...

There are very few people I would agree to meet in a park super early on a Sunday morning. Charlotte is one of them.  The appointed hour was 07:30.  The venue Richmond Park. The pleasure was all mine... Chemo complete and steroids finally out of the drug cocktail, Charlotte has been back on two wheels for 5 weeks.  And, on Sunday morning, was to be found racing on a tandem! 10.4 miles in under 30 minutes.   Oozing with pride does not do justice to how I felt on meeting Charlotte post-race back at Pen Ponds. Time trialing is something I don't even aspire to.  But for a cyclist so talented as she who I am privileged to call my best friend, the message to cancer is clear:  you can take the girl out of cycling, but you can't take cycling out of the girl.