Pictures...

People often ask whether I can feel 'mum' travelling with me or sense her near. I often move away from the question since I'm not one for the after life in any of the religious or spiritual senses. Which isn't to say that more power to them if they do exist. What I do know is that Mum is part of me. As she is part of you if she became a part of your life for a significant time or touched your heart, made an impression on you in some way or another. I do believe people carry on, not necessarily in an after life, but through us and within us. I cannot help but see Mum each day at various places as I stop or pass. Not through a conscious effort, just simply because it is easy for me to picture her here and there, sometimes visually, sometimes heard. I am not ashamed to say that not a single day has gone by since I began this journey when I haven't shed tears, but then if tears alone could bring back to us those that we love and have lost, the oceans would be sure never to run dry.

There is a quote that I hold close to me that I would like to share.....We don't take pictures with our cameras. We take them with our hearts, and we take them with our minds.

The only way I have of sharing what I see as I make Mums journey is through what I type here and the pictures that I can show you. I think I have said many times in some of the other posts that the pictures do not do the places justice. Don't get me wrong. There are a myriad of lenses available. Techniques to learn, filters that can be used, but none of which will ever be capable of replicating what the human eye is able to see or to catch the moments that pass us by. Our eyes see not only what is before us, but what is around us. Constantly exploring how that relates to our knowledge, our memories, our thoughts and perceptions, our experiences. Each sight gives to us a unique perspective, as so each photograph gives us a snap shot of what was as opposed to what is, but that in itself will hopefully trigger a memory of something that we can review again and again and yet never be able to transpose to others through either the medium of a picture or through the construction of a sentence. Such are the limitations of vocabulary and photography that there cannot be words to describe the sight that without any seeming reason brings tears rolling down your cheeks whilst simultaneously bringing a smile to your face and your heart.

I'm going to place two pictures below. I had been watching the sky. Nothing particularly in my thoughts when the clouds and the light merged. I'll say no more and allow those of you that knew Mum to see what you see for yourself. Perhaps I was wrong in what I said at the beginning.

 

15th August

Some people see the GB for what it is. The symbol for identifying the bus is from Great Britain. Others seemingly get confused and think maybe it stands for Bulgaria, although as I point out, it would be BG. Some just think they are letters with no significance.

To me, they are my reminder of my Grandfather, Mum and Lindas' father, Geoffrey Boulter. It seems impossible to believe that a year has gone by since he passed away on August 15th. Those two letters remind me of the ring he was forever playing with. His initials engraved into the gold as he constantly twirled it around his finger. For those of you who met him, you'll know his grumpy stubborn forthright nature, his black humour, his love for his lost wife, his perpetual sweet tooth in the face of diabetes, Terrys chocolate oranges, and possibly his ability to hold a grudge for longer than anyone known to man!

He may well have been all of those things, but above those he was my very best friend and I miss him dearly. He was my rock on which to shelter.

So it seems fitting to me at least that I take the opportunity to include and remember him here on the day of his passing. A day where his true stubborness shone through like never before. The Doctors and nurses baffled that after two days and nights of not waking, troubled breathing and no signs of improvement, that he should promptly at 6am that morning ask in his normal abrupt manner to Linda and I "What are you two doing here?"

For the duration of that day he remained awake. Completely unaware that he had not been with us for the last 48 hours. Eating, drinking, complaining and telling tales as if it was any other day.

As the day drew on and the evening became the night, he started to grow tired and a little troubled once more. I held his hand as he gripped mine in his usual way for one last time. Asking Simon to fetch the nurse, and then us joining Linda to wait. I knew before the nurse came that he was gone, but I refused to speak the words to Linda or Simon whilst we waited. Not wanting to accept that the hope that had been inside that he would continue to live was no longer there. Replaced with the truth that he had finally found his resting peace.

So it is that I smile each time I see and polish his initials stamped on the back of Mums bus, and can still hear him loud and clear tutting and telling me how I am doing it wrong whilst i'm doing a repair amidst the short sharp 'Jamie'.....

Sunio and the Temple of Poseidon, Mt Olympus, Orymos - pictures in place of words

Not the best of roads to discover you've gone on the wrong one and need to turn around....

The Orymos retreat - quiet enough up there isn't it? And then.....

moving on...