The Heart and the bottle by Oliver Jeffers. This picture book story is part two of a series of three of my postings, number one is grief gravy. If you visit and read each one you’ll realise it reflects something of my recent journey which many of us share.
His stories and artwork are wonderful. My granddaughters favourite was the one about the crayons writing letters to the child.
whose head was filled with all the curiosities of the worldwith thoughts of the starsshe took delight in finding new thingsIt might never have occurred to the girl what to do had she not met someone smaller and still curious about the world.
Manjula and I have given many away as gifts. All his books are also available for our guests and friends at Manjula’s Library in Mysore Bed and Breakfast.
Look out for the third posting in this series, revealing more of my journey.
I refer to more of Oliver Jeffers’ wonderful books in other postings. Do look out for his work for the children and adults in your life.
It helps confirm time is limited. It raises questions of how one has used the time available and the new challenge is to live each moment fully (if we haven’t been already).
For some it might be fulfilling wishes, completing the bucket list while for others it’s reflection and for all of us, more learning.
For the wisest and where they see its possibility it’s about joy, contentment and happiness.
Being kind, creating gentle ripples.
Leaving positive impact
It’s about living life to the full, being attentive and with as much presence as we can muster.
I realise I’ve entered this last leg, as is often the case with me, things get thrown up in the air and I work out what’s feasible, desirable for the next version/iteration.
I’ve been careful not to rush it as the trauma of losing MAnjula has jumbled up my brain cells and bent the connections to create more than the usual fuzz of uncertainty.
For the next two years I plan to continue commemorating MAnjula but I know she would want me to find ways to be happy and that will involve reconnecting and being kind. It will not necessarily be like before and I hope it’s innovative. Who knows? I’ll adapt and find out what works in this new and final stage.
This was written at the end of 2021 and complemented previous postings including the one about ‘opening up my heart.’ Bit of a coincidence there. 🤭
Two significant changes have recently taken place to challenge me further and throw some light on opportunities to help fill space around my grief, recognising it will always be with me and hopefully diminish the impact of the grieving.
I have swam in it, swallowed it, fought it, opened my arms to it, shrivelled from it, tolerated it, hated it,.. It’s hit me like a personal tsunami, been wishy washy, sticky beyond treacle, invaded my brain to make it fuzzy and cracked open my tentative comfort zones. I know it’s a lifelong friend I have to accept it. It’s equal with and probably surpasses the combined effect of all the worse times in my life and for the first time uncovered real solid regrets.
It’s a gravy train that doesn’t bring benefits or maybe it does.
My heart was broken by losing Manjula, I covered it up and held it close but now I’m beginning to feel able to open my heart again. So there are positives to discover and learning to reveal.
I now love Manjula even more and in ways that I couldn’t imagine. I’m tentatively beginning to be kind to myself.
The name of a goddess, river and a bossy little girl.
She’s the same age as Poppy my granddaughter.
She comes round to paint when Sowbhagya is here so there is no misunderstanding.
We don’t want people wondering what the old white guy is doing with a little Indian girl which for me, a qualified trained social worker, is a sad reflection on our societies west and east.
Today’s panic was that I’d misplaced shirts, shorts and especially trousers.
I fly to the U.K. next week, my first trip for over two years. Here I wear shorts and T shirts unless I’m formal when I wear kurta and pyjama.
As it will be variable weather and much cooler moving to really cold in the U.K. I need shirts and trousers but I couldn’t find them. We’ll know I have.
For almost 2 1/2 years I’ve received daily iPhone notifications —like the one below —reminding me to switch the water on and off. This is to pump water from the sump to the header tank and for the house to not run dry (a common system where we live). The messages were set up by Tom after we realised I needed a reminder. Without Manjula’s physical presence in the house it wouldn’t get done.
MAnjula collected coins in a make up bag. Each morning I take out ten rupees for my morning tea break while walking with Lucie. Thanks Manj.
Lucie waits patiently at the top of the stairs for me to go backwards and forwards getting ready to walk. At the last moment she peers in manjulas library as a reminder to check that I’ve bolted the balcony door.
I look in and smile at two of the many portraits of Manjula that fill the house.
Occasionally placing a T light in this wonderful engagement present brought all the way from Australia
A favourite photo, emergency escape and engagement present.
All pieces of the jigsaw of our life. The missing pieces’ essence is present in every one of them.
I’ve chosen to deal with my grief companion head-on. Others will do it differently. Who knows what’s the best way, our experiences are completely individual. The pain is there, whatever but I try to minimise the suffering.
Daily bittersweet tears
I share Manjula’s story wherever and whenever I can. In the dentists waiting room, even the treatment chair, during the morning tea break, handing out cards inviting people to appreciate our garden.
It’s important to me.
She probably thinks I’m ridiculous. 🤭
Last night was my second appearance at an open mic. MAnjula did get a mention (that’s the point) it was three intertwined love stories. But I ran out of time. The story of my life. If reincarnation and reconnecting souls is true, maybe I’ll have more time with Manjula’s sweet kind soul.
New roses arrival, some gifted by Manjula, for the sadly depleted garden. While Manjula’s garden and benches hang out in the next door park.
and continue to be enjoyed by manySo that’s why the corporation often don’t place their benches in the shade? 🤭I don’t think it was a Manjula gift or maybe it was….
Me and MYCycle 