~ "When life gives you a lemon, you peel it and find it, instead, to be an orange. That is because, one of the first lessons of the human condition is that one should not spend their life turning something bitter into something sweet, as lemons into lemonade, but rather realise that nothing life gives you is ever as sour as a lemon. Everything is rich in opportunity and vitamins for the soul, just like an orange." ~ By ME (18/05/2014)
I don't reckon dying is pretty. But death can be beautiful. It's quiet and peaceful and on beautiful sunny days like this, the deceased can be the only people to 100% benefit from it. Unattached, they are part of the gorgeous weather and are free to enjoy it. They take each day for what it's worth down to the core. They appreciate it like humans are unable to with our multiple thoughts about what to do next, or what we ought to be doing, regretting that we didn't wear our shorts and saddening at the fact that the day will soon end.
This Saturday, I had a desire which on the surface seemed morbid and I was entirely unable to explain it to myself.
One of my best friends had put me up for the weekend. Whenever I do the Saturday and Sunday shift at work, she always does. But this weekend marked the second time in a row and I hadn't properly thanked her beyond words. On my lunch break, I took a walk into town to Sainsbury's to buy chocolate and a bunch of white and yellow 'seasonal flowers'.
I paid and as I walked back to work with this bouquet perched on my arm like an army soldier holds a rifle in parade, a sudden urge swept over me. Suddenly, I didn't want to be heading to work. I wanted to be going to a cemetery and spending the boiling sunshine with someone who was no longer alive. I wanted to appreciate the day, buy flowers and mark a grave with them. Then sit in the sun besides their headstone and reminisce. It felt the best way to make the most of the day. But I don't know why that felt so blissful, so perfect or so right.
When we were to younger, we used to read grave stones with mum. She took us round various places, some local and some on our trips to the new forest, and she instilled in us a courage - one that told us not to be afraid of dying, not to dodge death and to be respectful to those who had passed on. It gave us a love of quirky literature and a respect for other people's lives.
We would walk around and see who was who. Who had been a mother, a brother, a great grandmother or a friend. Who was the oldest and, sadly, who was the youngest. We would look at freshly covered graves with mini gates to Heaven. And gingerly run past the spots that had been broken in. It was something we had always done and something we were indifferent to.
But, we were incredibly fortunate. Apart from our Grandad, who I knew only from photos and the memories that I had fabricated from them, no one close to us had died. We had little experience of death or of a death so personal. And so, with my flowers in hand and my lunch break counting down, I realised that I had no one to sit with. I wanted to put flowers on a grave that wasn't full and talk to someone who was still alive.
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There was no one who could fulfill this deep desire of mine. Which, looking back, of course was very lucky. It was comforting to know that all my family and friends were alive and well.
When I go to se my auntie, there's this place I pass on the train line. It's called Brookwood and it's the UK's largest cemetery. It's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Just vast expanses of fields covered with graves. And people knelt down tending to them. There's flowers everywhere and barely a soul walking around. It's so tranquil and beautiful.
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Having the job that I have means the absolute world to me! I have no words to describe how much I love it. When I come out to go home I feel exhilarated by the people I am fortunate enough to work with. By the customers I meet in store. And just by the fact that I am worth something - that I have something that is vital to the clockwork of the company. I am a member of the team that is so crucial to the sales we make and the people the brand attracts.
It's such a wonderful feeling to be part of that. And so, when I lost my job, I felt absolutely devastated.
I wasn't fired but I was told that the only alternative to working all summer and not getting to see my family was to head out to Dubai and resign. It was an obvious choice but it was so upsetting to do it. I felt that I had come so far since getting my job, that to lose it would put me at a loose end and back to where I started: frantically searching websites for any and everything that advertised a vacancy and having countless emails that told me that I was unsuccessful. (I still get them - even now. 5. Months. On.)
Yet, the thought that I had after being told this news by my manager was not anything like I've just said above. That came after. My first thought was simply this:
"God has given me an opportunity."
And, for a momentary lapse in my sadness, I felt like I wasn't losing at all.
Since being at uni, religion has had such a deep influence on me. I've learnt so much and been able to deepen my faith and relationship with God. It has been fantastic and for that one thought to be my first in a disheartening situation, most definitely tells me that I'm going somewhere and that I am better for it.
And so, life threw me my lemons and I ate them like oranges. Perhaps knowing that my job is coming to an end, like dying, isn't pretty and it does still hurt. But when it's over, I can begin to mould things anew. And the prospect of that, is rather beautiful.
