The twilight zone between light and dark,

Neither fully here nor there,

Walking on eggshells, broken glass,

Toward the wire, the finish line.

And no way back or out,

With every night upon a bed of nails,

The threat ahead each day, the promise glimpsed,

The undiscovered country out of sight.

The sun still shines here, birds sing, life goes on,

But always there’s a shadow in my mind

And sometimes, just like Frodo on Mount Doom,

I can see nothing but ‘the wheel of fire’

Alone in my own dark night of the soul.

So, carefully this road is walked,

On tiptoe, creeping, seeking for the way…

The grace so quickly lost, the pain floods in.

Sometimes there is a laugh, a hug,

But often cold rejection and retreat

And I cannot break through.

Where is the wisdom as a servant here?

Should I rip off the covering, revealing all,

The nakedness of agony, our broken hearts?

Or just pretend, ignore and carry on?

I carry on, I do my best… and it is not enough.

No way to speed this up

Nor can we sacrifice one second,

But for love’s sake keep walking, seeking peace,

And trusting we’ll be carried to the bitter end.

So, the journey to the hospital, somehow endured, I drop him at the door. A few minutes now to find a space to park, to walk back in the freedom of my own company, to breathe, to draw on inner grace and maybe a friend who is thinking of us right now… to pray for success.

We have Marie Curie to thank for this. I believe she gave her life for it – literally. She discovered the properties of radium, didn’t she? How it can halt the growth of a tumour, stop the cancer cells dividing? In her case over-exposure gave her cancer and she died of it – radium is potent stuff! But it’s all they can offer so we take it, not a cure, thank you Madame Curie, but the hope of more time, as we tread the fine line between positive and negative effects. So there he lies, held in position in the X-ray machine for 15 minutes while they (oh so accurately) fire radiation into his brain.  And I am praying the healthy tissues will not suffer collateral damage and that if at all possible (impossible) his hair follicles will not be burned away and useless ever after: God protect my son. Meanwhile, there is nothing to see, nothing to show for it… it’s really an act of faith. They will give a small amount each day over 30 days until the calculated number of ‘grays’ is reached. That’s a lot of silent journeys to the hospital and home again - definitely a full total of greys.

The receptionist is really nice; people like her make such a difference when you’re stressed and anxious. I try to hide in the corner of the waiting room, earphones and music blocking everyone else out, pretending this is normal life. I don’t have the capacity to engage with the suffering of strangers around me, the sick and frail lady who is around my own age, the boy in the wheelchair who has lost all his hair. His escort is loud and cheerful – I recognise a coping mechanism. How else can anyone survive in such a place?

Here he is, finished for today, and we can go. We return to the car much happier now that’s over for another day: he will talk to me now. I start thinking about how we will manage the trip tomorrow… oh yes, Dad will be driving then. I am relieved. As I pull out onto the main road snow starts to fall out of the white sky.

***

Last Sunday I met you, unknown before then

It was Valentine's day , I came with a friend,

With cards and with gifts, uncertain, unsure

Of just how to greet you, we stood and we saw.

The first lady looked, then turned away,

Said she was waiting, no time today.

She pointed to you as the woman to talk with

Agreement was needed before we could give.

Astride on your bike, assessing the square

You were clearly in charge, so did we dare,

Ask for your help to give scarves out that day?

We approached, and you gave permission to stay

You opened your gift and you loved the pink scarf

Your friend loved the red one, the card made her laugh

You cared for your girls and you said we could pray

That they would be safe and out of harms way.

You showed us this lady standing alone

“Give her a scarf, she's on her own”

She opened the brown one, so carefully,

“Why me” she whispered, “who cares about me?”.

“This is all I can do , I need money” she said

“With daughters to care for,” bowing her head,

“If I could see a way out I'd finish for sure”.

Good God, hear her cry, there has to be more.

With tears, and goodbye's we walked away

Leaving you there working that day.

So this is for those who need a way through

An impossible place, to something new.

And came across the fallen

On the battlefields of the high street

Such a strange way to leave

To say goodbye to all that

A strangers breath invading the

Most intimate of spaces

An assailants hands cracking cartilage

Playing an inaccurate karaoke tune

Like a clumsy glockenspiel on his chest

Reluctant protagonists

Composing a desperate song

A duet of hope and reveille

In counterpoint to the arrhythmic beat of

His own finale, his bugle call

The funny thing is, that man is on everyone's horizon.  He usually remains hidden, sometimes showing himself just before his trap is sprung, sometimes coming up from behind and devouring a life in an instant.  He stalks battlefields and hospitals: his breath is feared.  I know Someone stronger than he, who waits beyond, light to his darkness.  When my time comes I will pass right through the shadow into Another's arms, so there can be no dread of his cold embrace.  Death has lost its sting.

But this is my son facing his own end.  He is the one who must find the courage to keep walking, head held high, or seek some way round, or somehow squeeze past and delay the moment - as we all try to do.  All I can do is walk alongside him, keeping watch, giving help and encouragement, a companion on the journey, however short or long the road may be.  Its a sad and painful calling: as parents we look back down his road to the very beginning when he burst into the world on a May afternoon nearly 23 years ago.  He was a laughing baby, a determined toddler, a grinning infant - always dissembling, always stubborn, always loveable.  Years passed and hurts came, the personality thrusting through disappointments and setbacks, a character strengthened as well as scarred, lessons learned, friends made.  But this latest hurt is incurable.

So the light of memories streams on our road like the descending sun, casting our long shadows at our feet.  We walk in shade yet see the glory too, grateful for so many happy times past.  The man in black cannot be ignored, but his presence somehow brings out life's colours more vibrantly.  Suddenly the language of the heart is top priority, love is spoken out loud and care expressed boldly where reticence kept us quiet before.  We find our little family surrounded by a brotherhood far bigger than we knew, lifted and carried by many arms and many prayers, the wonderful comfort of fellowship in pain.  In our newly constricted reality everything somehow falls into its right place and true meaning is found in the simple things.  The need for peace and inner healing dominate and life is lived just one day at a time.   Bright shades of nature's beauty, sunlight, a friend on the phone, a bouquet delivered, a meal cooked, a message sent - all shine out with new radiance, bringing tears and unexpected joy.  Close companions are closer, walking near us on the road we could not walk alone.

To look to the light that breaks out from behind this dark cloud brings deep gratitude, even joy, in the face of sadness. The contrast is stark, the pleasure more poignant because of our suffering.  It is 'joy unspeakable and full of glory'…  And would we have known it if this had not happened?  Would we have grasped how loved we are and how much we love?  Would we have seen the heart of the matter and the meaning of life with such clarity?

Some days - and especially nights - its true, the sun is veiled and tears are our food.  Many mornings there is weariness and pain as I rise to face another day, set my face to walk the path before me.  But for love's sake I will walk it, right to the end, whenever that may come.  I know that to have seen the man ahead is a priviledge, an opportunity to focus on what matters most.  Because faith, hope and love last forever, but the greatest of these is love.

A hop skip and 7 hour plane ride from the heart of the Far East is Sydney. Having recently arrived in Singapore from London and thrown into the deep end at work ( note to self: the rigorous life of a lawyer is pretty much a constant wherever in the world you are, sunny clime or not!), I decided the perfect antidote would be a holiday to Australia.

 I chose Sydney because I had been there before in 2004 but having only visited the main tourist attractions, I felt I did not do the city (frequently voted as one of the world’s best cities) justice. So I called up my dear friend Katrien who I Iived with in Denmark and who now conveniently just happens to reside in Sydney.

Suitcase in hand, I traipsed off to Singapore’s Changi Airport to board my Qantas flight to Sydney.

Sydney is a city that has something for everyone. The phrase multicultural melting pot comes to mind. Of course there is the usual Sydney Opera House, Darling Harbour tourist trail which is a must see, but once that box is ticked, the real fun in Sydney lies in experiencing Sydney as  a Sydneysider would.

One of the areas which is a must go is Crown Street in Surry Hills. Eclectic and vibrant it is has a distinct bohemian, casually cool vibe to it, sort of like an Australian version of London’s Notting Hill. Dotted with cafes, gastro pubs, retro shopping and vintage clothes it is difficult to know where to start. Walk into Yullis and sample the worldly flavours that influence modern Australian taste . Further down Crown Street, is Bills run by reknowned Australian chef Bill Granger. The white washed walls, large wooden tables and clean lines are reminiscent of the Hamptons and make Bills ideal for a relaxing spot of lunch. If the weather is good, sit outside for good people watching. Indulge the gourmet in you with a potter around the Crown Street Grocers. Stocked with fresh cheeses, wines, pastas, jams it carries the finest local, seasonal Australian and European produce. Worth buying is Tasmanian leatherwood honey for its floral and buttery essences.

When you tire of the hustle and bustle of Crown Street, make your way to the Centennial Parklands which is about a 5-10 minutes drive away. Stroll or if you fancy, join the locals and inner city horse ride through the Parklands. Simply book your ride online and off you trot!

On one of the days, feeling like a road trip- Katrien and I drove out of Sydney to the Blue Mountains National Park ( Yes, okay I admit I caved in to a little tourist sight seeing!). About an hour and half away, through roads lined with bush trees and eucalyptus forests, is Katoomba home of the Blue Mountains. The rugged terrain of the misty Blue Mountains are well worth seeing. Look out for the Three Sisters rock formation-according to Aboriginal folklore the Three Sisters tell the story of three sisters of the Katoomba tribe who fell in love with brothers from a neighbouring tribe. Tribal law prevented them from being together. To protect the sisters from harm a witchdoctor turned them into stone, all the while intending to reverse the spell. However,the witchdoctor’s sudden death meant the spell could not be undone and the sisters stand today as an awe inspiring rock formation.Resist the temptation to eat at Katoomba. Instead drive to Leura, a leafy village tucked 20 minutes away.  Shop in turn- of - the- century cottages along Megalong street, check out the farmers market and stop for lunch/tea at the Wayzgoose- a favourite with the locals and of flowerpot scones fame- scones baked in a flowerpot and served with lashings of cream and fresh berry jam.

After all that bush walking through the Blue Mountains, it is time to head back to Sydney city to indulge in some retail therapy and the suburb of Newtown has retail therapy written all over it. The main thoroughfare of Newtown is King Street where you can find a good mix of Australian independent labels. Australian fashion is characterized by its bright bold floral prints, whimsical summer tops and dresses all evoking a sense of casual yet sophisticated beach style. My favourite was a small boutique called Stellino on the King Street.

It is also in Newtown where the reputation that Sydneysiders have for being sophisticated coffee connoisseurs is apparent. Branching off from King Street, on Missenden Road is Campos Coffee which is guilty of driving Starbucks ( and any cravings for Starbucks) out of Sydney owing to the fact that Campos Coffee is just that good. Coffee is not coffee without cake. So,head next door to Luxe Bakery with its impressive spread of baked delights for some scrumptious pastries.

There you have it, a city break to Sydney as a Sydneysider would!

The world

seems a poorer place

without you …

Seems to miss your lovely smile

The kindest heart

I ever knew,

and your gentle spirit.

It seems wrong to me

for spring to appear

flowers to grow

in the gardens again.

Winter, the long dreary winter

somehow felt right…

All the world - bleak, grey

cold and barren

Trees were bare and stark

because you were not here.

……………………………………

But now flowers?

buds?

springtime?

How can there be spring

without you?

You - who loved gardens

nurtured flowers

turned barren waste-ground

into havens of beauty.

You - who painstakingly

built stepping-stones down a steep river-bank

transformed a neglected woodland

into a peaceful retreat…

Where I spent one summer

bathing in sunlight

many years ago…

Where-ever you lived

you created a beautiful garden

…………………………………………

But now- I know you live

in the most exquisite garden of all!

You would not wish us to mourn

but to enjoy life to the full…

Relish every beautiful thing

rejoice in the tiny buds

the green shoots…

that signal the arrival of spring.

I was lying in my bed, long endless, pain-filled days and nights; cold, oh so cold; electric blankets keeping the frozen hand of death at bay - just!

Looking in the mirrow I didn't recognise the pale, gaunt face with haunted eyes that taunted me! "You don't have to live like this, you can finish things now." The newly filled bottle of heavy-duty painkillers tempted me with an easy option! Courage to live was what I needed - courage to face each endless, miserable, restricted day, and the lonely nights! "I shall not die, but I shall live" I flung back defiantly! I SHALL NOT die….help me Lord!

Little exquisite, green ferns were growing in the cracks of the wall, and tiny creepers with violet-purple flowers - in the seeing impenetrable hardness of stone ,life can flourish and be beautiful! Gazing for hours at the living, growing, overcoming life-filled tiny flowers encouraged me……….the pain, the inablility to move, or think. The days, months, years passed on leaden minutes, tick tick tick…….the landing clock outside my door………..my teenage sons' brief "hello" when they got home from school - coping, having to! With mum no better…..crawling on hands and knees to the bathroom, and the taunting mirror, mirror on the wall……but not My Wall!

The season's pass, and now a bird. Yes a bird making her nest and laying eggs in a cranny in the wall. Coming and going, coming and going, feeding her nestlings; teaching them to fly! "Help me to fly dear Lord. Help me to rise up as an eagle on the wing, above the lifelessness of earth into the heights of your Heaven."  "They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall rise up with wings as eagles," a little plaque on the wall inspired me to hope, to keep trusting.

Then came the day my helper said "I do not like to leave you Mrs C, you look so poorly" Sitting quietly in the corner of the room, watching me long after her allotted hour of care. I felt like a wooden barrel going over Niagara Falls; falling, falling - so cold, so giddy, falling, falling; rushing noises in my head! I shall NOT die, but I shall live - Go back to Hell you tempting devil". Then the doctors came, the ambulance and finally, tests, tests and more tests. Then treatment and then little by little, little by little I am well! I did not die, I did not die. I am alive!  I potter round my garden, feed the birds and gaze upon the beauty of life and my sons  now grown tall and strong, climbing their mountains and training their sons……wonderful! Life is so wonderful!!

(To my husband for our 25th wedding anniversary 23 March)

“I’m leaving! I’ve had enough! I don’t love you any more!  The blazing, hate-filled words were said. I walked out, slamming the front door behind me.

Later we argued into the night, turning our backs in the cold bed, lying as far apart as we could. A few hours restless sleep, and he left off to work without a word. The children fractious and irritating. I miserable and cold hearted; broken hearted. Dreams smashed and trodden underfoot. Where had the tender nights of gentle love been lost in the relentless anxiety of babies, mounting debts, and the exhaustion of endless days and nights, of work, and more work. I packed my bags, made furtive phone calls and planned my escape.

The minute his key was in the lock I was ready. No greeting, a mumbled “I’m taking a shower”. The children playing in the playpen, preoccupied with bricks and leggo.  I, bag in hand down the garden path, over the wall. Running towards the station without a word, a note, or backward look.

“Love is kind and suffers long”- the words echoed in my mind, and would not go away. “Love suffers long and is kind” Am I kind?? I do not know this love and never have. Lord give me this love, Help me forgive, forget……..and try again.

A long, long winter of discontent – cold deep drifts of memories, hard and treacherous – bitter unrelenting, tormenting thoughts; but slowly, slowly giving way to warm and tender shoots- sweet, gentle, pure, shoots of kind deeds, and understanding soothing touch whispered words of sorrow and repentance, replacing the rent clothing with rich hues of woven coverings, soft and warm to cover and to heal.  “By faithfulness and love is much sin atoned for”……”Love covers a multitude of sins”

The years pass, the children leave, more darling babies toddle their sweet way into our home and hearts again and love reborn steals its strong relentless way into my heart and I am filled again with Joy unspeakable.

This tender man, this gentle giant – my love, my husband – how could I have been so blind.?

We amble through the woods, sit gazing at the sunset o’er the sea and Lakeland hills – or cosy by the fire on winter nights we cuddle, holding hands and murmuring sweet endearments. Love did come again – and with it joy and peace are in our hearts and home again.

“There is hope for a tree if it be cut down that through the scent of water it will spring again………..”

Gill Cook