We both agree that it was, despite our circumstances, a most enjoyable holiday. Two whole weeks of brilliant sunshine, good food, a wonderful location and excellent company(each other’s) was marred only by one day of ‘Spanish Tummy’(mine) which I suspect was Hugh’s ploy for keeping me out of the sun (he always monitored the sunbathing) and for giving Pauline an opportunity to  have time on her own (albeit at the pharmacy ) to exercise her Higher Spanish. We looked after each other, buoyed each other up, metaphorically as well as physically. She bought a lilo to encourage my watery endeavours and saved me from drowning – seriously – when I let it go. Yes I know I was in a depth of only three feet of sea but in my panic I went under twice and would have done so again had Pauline not been standing by – creased with laughter I have to say, but standing by nonetheless like a guardian angel. I was reminded of a similar experience, when on my honeymoon I stepped out of a small boat and into St.Samson’s harbour in Guernsey. Again, after the panic had subsided, I discovered that I was taller than the sea in which I was flailing about, and had surfaced, to everyone’s amusement, still wearing my sun hat and clutching my fishing line. I will leave you momentarily with that picture.

We discussed how and when Pauline should tell her work colleagues about “the Boss’. She needn’t have worried. By the time she arrived at the office it was common knowledge. ‘The Boss’ had seen to it. When he was asked politely if he had enjoyed his holiday he had replied with a twinkle in his eye and for all to hear, ‘Pauline and I had a wonderful time!’ Wise man. She was teased for the day. End of story.

I lie awake in the wee small hours talking to Hugh and God. I gaze into the swirling darkness hoping to see Hugh’s face, desperate to hear his voice. Where are you, Hugh? Just tell me that you’re okay….. nothing. ……Hugh , please …just let me know that you’re safe…… ..fine……happy…. My mind jumps in all directions and, as I am drawn yet again to relive the events of that Thursday morning I acknowledge that it is going to be another long night. Images of him struggling with the breathlessness, distress and suffocate me. I throw off the bedclothes intending to get up and escape the endless tossing and turning and self recrimination

As I try to control my erratic breathing I find myself thinking about St.Thomas, and his crisis of Faith, a favourite story which I have  told many times to many children.

I realise that I badly need his help………my Faith is weak. God, how many times have I attended Mass, said The Credo, listened to The Word, received the Sacraments, taught the Faith, tried to live the Gospel… ..and look where I am….well actually, I don’t know where I am….. I’m lost, I’m in the dark, I feel alone and abandoned. No that’s wrong……. ……physically I’m not alone ….. but I am lonely. I miss him so much…….his presence, his voice, a look, a touch, a telepathic thought, the expectation of his arrival, his approval, his  disapproval, his anxieties, his disappointments, his hopes, his strength, his sadness, his joy, his honesty, his dedication, his sensitivity, his unconditional love…….. oh God, I could go on…….but I’m sure You get the picture………You know all these things……….Did You take all this away to punish me ? That’s it….You’ve seen through me and You’ve seen how shallow and false I am……….You can see that I didn’t love him as much as he loved me……but I did love him…….I do love him……oh God, does he know how much I love  him……did he hear me when I told him…….why couldn’t we have got to say goodbye…. ….properly……….

Even after his retiral from school, he always got up to see me off the premises ensuring that I had all my essential paraphernalia: my school bag, my handbag, my carrier bag, my ‘piece’ my purse, my spectacles and my ‘tooth’. Having forgotten the latter once, Hugh was instrumental (being a musician) in my never forgetting it again.

‘Mosie!’ he yelled from the front door as I was conversing with the next door neighbour before driving off one morning, ‘Have you got your tooth in ?!!’….. I smiled wanly at the neighbour… whom I knew was trying to identify ‘the tooth’ in question.
‘Yes, darling,’ I called back through gritted tooth, ‘I remembered…..’…..(but by gum I’ll see you later!!)

There was one morning when he unaccustomedly overslept. I decided not to waken him thinking he would enjoy the lie in. Complete with tooth I sneaked out. ‘Don’t ever do that again,’he admonished on my return. ‘Don’t ever leave without telling me…….’ He was upset for that whole day. I thought he was making a mountain out of a molehill. He wasn’t.

I cannot believe the incidents and memories that flood my consciousness at all sorts of times and in a variety of places. Events and words that were insignificant at the time but seem so heavily laden with meaning now. Oh God. Can I do it all again, please. I’ll pay more attention this time, I’ll try harder, I’ll do better……or else…….is this what the ‘or else’ is all about ..?….Dear God, please , not another guilt trip……..

‘Why do you persist in talking to Me if you say your faith is weak?’

Because I want some answers!!!

‘Okay. What do you want to know?’

Why me? Why us?

‘Why not you ? Why not yous?’

Dear God!…… this is no time for levity!

‘Just wanted to make sure that you were paying attention. By the way, don’t you miss school?’

No…..well yes……a bit. I miss the involvement….I miss the children………

‘You’ve got some wonderful school stories………..why don’t you collate them and get them printed……..now there’s a bit of homework for you……..what’s your favourite?…..’

You are always doing this !

‘Doing what?’

Going off at tangents………changing the subject…….not sticking to the point…..

“What is the point?’

That is my very question !…..Oh God, I’m so tired…..St. Thomas, help me believe that I can get to believe I can get to sleep……..help me believe……..help me  …….and wrapped in the grey blanket of an approaching dawn I am sleepily aware of a bird singing…………..

Pauline is up and about. What day is it today? It’s Tuesday isn’t it…….I must remember to say my Novena… …….nine consecutive Tuesdays……..did you say it last week..?……I can’t remember…….I think I  did….. yes I’m sure I did………..you’re sure?!……….well this is a very decisive turn up for the books!………..yes, well I know I have been very unsure and indecisive of late but I’ve changed now……..I think…….! …….Okay then, why don’t you make the big decision to get up………you know what will happen if you lie here…………come on ……….up you get………one, two, three………..oh for goodness sake…..!! …. how hard can it be to put one foot on the floor…….it’s not as if you’re being asked to do something difficult or impossible ….. ……you should be thankful that you’re mobile………get your lazy body out of this bed now..!!!

I shiver and lie back stiffly pulling the covers up around my chin as if in expectation of a gathering storm. An image of St. Peter (looking suspiciously like Charlton Heston), spreads itself over the wide screen of my imagination….. what’s going on here………St Thomas last night……….the Big Fisherman this morning……who exactly is operating my remote control…..?……but despite my cynicism I go with the flow and am drawn into the story of Peter’s test of Faith when he was asked to step out of a boat (I’ve done that !) and walk across the water to his waiting Master………oh my God…..the very thought terrifies  and overwhelms me…. ….to deliberately step out of a boat ….in the middle of a sea………..but he did what was asked of him …..he  took that first unimaginably terrifying step………..what amazing courage………. what unbelievable faith …..and you…..?….what if the challenge had been made to you……… what a miserable failure you would have been ……sinking  like a stone for all to see……….God ! What am I saying……..you would never have left the boat in the first place…….. the Good Lord would have had to set the boat in a puddle for a start…….and supplied you with a lilo…… and made sure that Pauline was standing by…………

‘That’s me going, Mum. I’ll call you later.’

Doors bang, tyres crunch and the familiar sound of the car engine soon fades into the distance as the inevitable stillness of my early morning begins to settle around me. Pauline has left the building………now where were we..?

Oh yes……….St. Peter…..and you……..stepping over the side of a boat……..I can’t do it………..help me, Lord, I’m sinking fast………..twice in my life I have experienced the real terror of floundering underwater…..enough, enough, enough …..!!!…..three cock crows……….Peter had to struggle too, remember? I want to press play on another St. Peter scenario but instead I lift my watch to check the time……….now get up before you start to drown again in your own grief…….

But scenes from that buried treasure chest of ‘Best Forgotten Memories’ bubble defiantly to the surface……..

Two figures are fishing from a small cockle shell of a boat. A decision having been inexplicably made to ‘change ends’, one figure leans forward and grasps the sides of the little craft as the other attempts to re-park her bodywork in one slick manoeuvre. She lifts her leg to make the crucial step from stern to bow, but the boat, completely upset by the sudden shifting of its human cargo, swings ninety degrees to starboard as the apparently crazed fisherwoman steps forward into the sea. There follows an interminable splashing and yelling and thrashing and spluttering and gasping and choking before said fisherwoman rises eventually out of the foaming briny. A desperate display of running on the spot gives way to an exaggerated exhibition of gulping and gasping as reality reveals the true ‘depths’ of her suffering. And there she stands, Spirit of the Ocean, still wearing her sun hat and clutching her fishing line…… how glamorous……….how James Bond …… ……not ..

This is becoming ridiculous….get up!!!…….say your prayer and take that step and let’s get on with the day…..it’ll move on without you otherwise…….‘Every day is precious, that’s why they call it The Present’……..who was it who said that….? I wish it had been me……..Oh God, I’ve wasted so much time……help me not to waste time today……….O Sacred Heart of Jesus I place all my trust in You…………..

I step over the side of the bed onto terra firma and uncover my window to the outside world. In the distance traffic is moving steadily and people are walking purposefully into the business of another day. I should be out there too……….shouldn’t I? How long  is it now? ….three, four, five months………..some people think I should be moving on faster than I am………what exactly does that mean? Moving on to where?…….to what?….. …….time moves us on anyway…..

‘You should be out teaching by now!’ – (a backward step surely).

‘Have they still got you wrapped in cotton wool?’- (why shouldn’t they?)

‘You really need more distraction. What about Salsa dancing?’ -(I don’t have a partner…..!!……)

Other people say nothing. I prefer to listen to them.

They speak with their eyes and find answers in mine.

And then there are those dear ones whose searching looks and caring words are my daily sustenance, my comfort, my balm. These are the loved ones to whom Hugh was dad or papa, or brother or brother-in-law  or uncle or friend – those whose lives he touched, those whose lives are changed by his death. I like to think that I, too, can dispense some of that ‘cotton wool’ in which they so generously wrap me……..

Bizarrely I find myself trying to work out exactly how much cotton wool it would take to wrap me up completely………enough to stuff a grizzly bear I should think, taking into account all the scones and cappuccinos that have already been stuffed within.……you should be ashamed of yourself…………you really do need something meaningful to do with your time………..I must talk to Anne about it………..over our coffee……. and a scone….                                                                                         
…..to be continued……