The evil exploding capsule that was my husband’s life-changing illness continues to hang around like a toxic black cloud; recovery was never going to be easy but the jolting journey often feels that progress is held within some mystery puzzle of a treasure chest. We’re both exhausted beyond words as we try to hide the despair 0f all that has been lost in our lives and all that is no longer possible. The everyday tasks which require such enormous effort and the journeys which demand hours of planning; these are scenes that the outside observer doesn’t seem to understand as they see the walking stick and imagine that “recovery” is imminent, especially with regard to his lost eyesight.
The years closes amidst ecological terror of Australian bushfires and warming temperatures and yet all the celebrations are churned out as before, as if there’s really nothing to worry about. We’re part of the many who are watching with horror and disbelief; how much worse must it appear before radical action is on the table?
Even the most heartfelt “Happy New Year” wishes seem thin set amidst this frame and the looming disaster for the UK in 2020.
The clock is ticking to slam the door on 2019. Where do we go from here?