Time to smell the flowers

I saw a dear friend for lunch recently. We’ve known each other for approaching twenty years – almost half of my life and almost a third of his.  We first met at work, at the beginning of the dotcom boom when internet technologies and the World Wide Web were becoming commercially interesting. We have many shared experiences from our time spent working together: the excitement of launching a new business, the mental challenge of creating something innovative yet industrially and technically unproven, deep camaraderie from working ridiculously hard to meet seemingly impossible deadlines because the launch date had been announced, a core of shared values, ethics and humour.

Its ten years since we last worked together but meeting up is as enjoyable as working together and it doesn’t bring the constant need to deliver projects, manage incidents or sort out security issues. We’d both be rich if we had a £ for every one of those scenarios we’ve managed. Now we get to talk about IT things instead of doing them while grabbing (or missing) lunch. Now we get to talk about holidays, health, children and grandchildren as well as news of friends and family. There is, I suspect, more balance in our lives today than when we worked in a frenetic start-up.

Neither of us is a person who does things by halves and neither of us will go to our graves having lived only a sedate half-life. My friend is at a point where work gets in the way of all the things he wants to do outside work. He’ll retire soon but in no way will he be retired. At some stage I hope to join him in that active, days full of adventure kind of retirement.  There have been points in both our lives where life was edged out because our careers required significant energy and we aren’t the kind of people who shirk. Do all things well or die trying could be our motto.

To be in the present and live every day as if it were my last means achieving a healthier balance. I learned the hard way. We all need time to smell the flowers, to do more than simply plant them in a rush, throw on some water and hope they grow. Over lunch we talked about my recent surgery, the benefits and consequences and that I’ve now done all I can to limit the risk of another run-in with cancer. My friend said it must feel good to have this final surgery behind me, to be able to get on with life. It does. Not that cancer was going to call a halt to everything but it certainly got in the way for a while. No-one wants to dwell on it but once you’ve been down this road you can never be certain you and the big C are through. Taking time to smell the flowers, to savour their beauty and delicious scent, holds far more importance than one might otherwise think.

Hunter S. Thompson once said “Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out and loudly proclaiming Wow! What a Ride!”  I have no way to arrive at my grave pretty and well-preserved (cancer took care of that) and in any case skidding in broadside and totally wrecked sounds much more fun.

I guess I’ll never stop planting the flowers but these days I take a moment to smell them too 🙂

Another year over…

The winter solstice passed by ten days ago and in the northern hemisphere, slowly but surely, daylight hours are beginning to increase. Tonight we usher in another New Year and in doing so set this one behind us. Another year over. In less than 6 months the summer solstice will mark a return to darker nights and the cycle – birth and death, growth and decay, dark and light – will continue. That is how our planet works.

At two points in my lifetime our family had five generations to celebrate Christmas and New Year, something of a rarity even in days when families were very large and women typically had children in their late teens or early twenties. Today very few of us remain and those who do are scattered over long distances across three continents.  Family is important to me and I would happily forgo all worldly goods for the opportunity to spend an extra year with lost loved ones, though a year would be insufficient because some were lost at a very young age. Young or old I know that parting again from those held dear would be far too difficult, something I would not relish for a second time so memories and photographs must suffice.

My oldest living relatives, my great aunt and great uncle, are 86 and 89 respectively. I was unable to visit during cancer treatment because I was chemo-pale and sickly, doing my best to avoid infections. They had experienced all that 17 years ago, immediately before they lost their only daughter and I couldn’t countenance this elderly couple bearing witness to the ravages of cancer treatment yet again.  A couple of years on and I’m largely recovered, pass for near-normal and have a functioning immune system. The Christmas break offered a good opportunity to visit and I found that Aunt and Uncle wear time well. They remain largely independent though they’ve both faced many personal health challenges in the last few years. They continue to live in the house they moved in to over half a century ago, the first house to be occupied on their street of brand new houses at the time.  Uncle tells me they are the last of ‘the originals’ on the street, they have seen many people come and go and he has lost his oldest friend in the last few months. Great aunt remains a country girl at heart, the Welsh lakes and mountains are never far from her thoughts and I am sure if she could, she would return there.  Though they’ve been married for 63 years I noticed Aunt continues to call Uncle cariad; he calls her cariad in return. Darling or sweetheart in Welsh. We talk of many things, of our lost loved ones and of those who are still here, of modern times and days gone by. Uncle gives M a bottle of beer and they discuss their favourite brews, he has a J2O for me because Aunt has told him I’m doing my best to take care of my health. We pet their dog (who is also very old at c17 but no-one knows his age for sure – he was rescued). We drink tea and remind Aunt and Uncle to keep warm in the cold weather, stay safe indoors.  The visit passes quickly and when its time to go Uncle takes my hand and says “keep looking after yourself, once there were lots of us but now there are few. We don’t want to lose any more.”  So true.

I wonder if there’s a point in our lives when we come to realise time slips through us quickly, more quickly than we might appreciate? If so, does the realisation change the way we view the world and go about our lives? Perhaps our experiences ordain when that point might be and make it dawn earlier for some than others, if at all?  As ever there are so many questions that seem to have so few real answers. 

Another year over and I think perhaps I have reached the point where I appreciate the value of time, how fleeting it is and how far beyond our control it lies. I also realise, and have done for a while, that I am free. Free from worrying about my pension, what other people think, how I look, whether my health will stay stable or my joints will ever improve.  I realise there is no time to waste which means enjoying the time there is, all of it, in whatever shape or form it takes. That is my mission for 2015, nothing more and nothing less.

To everyone who has followed Fecthis, liked and commented, thank you all – your encouragement and support is truly inspiring. To those who are facing cancer afresh or continue to live with it, I send fortitude, love and compassion. For everyone, I send wishes for happiness, well-being and peace in the year ahead. You are all amazing and you all deserve more time than human form allows.

Happy New Year

Happy New Year