Lovely article. 💕 It caused a cascade of thoughts and memories. Here’s the main thread… forgive the length here.
35 years ago this week, aged 17, my boyfriend died in a road accident. He was walking on country lanes between my house and a youth center in his home town. Our parting words were about the meal planned for the next day (when he would visit me again). So much I can say about it all, and I probably need to, but to keep it short, it was the next morning, after a broken sleep and conversation with my family late into the night, that I experienced what you said.
“But it’s brutal, you know. How life doesn’t stop. For anyone. How the world keeps moving forward, marching on, indifferent to whether we’re ready to move along with it. “
This was the big lesson I learned that day. The birds sang, the grey clouds got in the way of the sun again, school was open, shops were open. Life was relentless in its forward momentum and I felt like I wasn’t in it for a while. I was more of an observer. I contemplated so often the lightning speed of death. Not dying which is still a form of living, but death. As soon as as you know it to be true it has passed.
This very week in 2025 I was able to see that this lesson learned so young shaped me significantly. It planted seeds for my reverence of the present moment.
I find contemplation of death to be enlivening. I see how it can also be entirely depressing but that’s not how I see it. At least it’s both.
I loved this article today. It transported me to that part of my life which I am open to this week and I have some softness for what occurred. RIP John.
What a journey you take us on Tommy. Journeys, actually. This was sublime:
“as if being in the presence of old things was a kind of secret and available drug. There’s this remembrance of what I am and what is waiting that becomes crystal clear in these moments.”
I so love your visits on Saturday mornings—they deepen my life—my time in between the letters and numbers on my gravestone.
Whatever effort was required on your part to bring these words to the page, and I'm guessing that it's more than we know as it appears so effortless, I am grateful to you for. Reading it was like eating a meal by a Michelin chef, you can't imagine what's involved with bringing such a thing to the table, but you can feel difference between something that is simply functional and something that is elevated to an art form.
I absolutely agree that the deepest meaning is found in the ordinary, not the 'big events.' It’s so easy to miss those small, repetitive things that are actually the foundation of life.
You mentioned romancing the ordinary. I savour daily sun rays invading my room, the view on the mountain I see every single day of my life now.
Also shifting the perspective. I stopped getting angry when my boyfriend wakes me up early by accident. Yes, its brutal to not get enough sleep. But it’s so much more important to wake up next to the love of your life.
Lovely article. 💕 It caused a cascade of thoughts and memories. Here’s the main thread… forgive the length here.
35 years ago this week, aged 17, my boyfriend died in a road accident. He was walking on country lanes between my house and a youth center in his home town. Our parting words were about the meal planned for the next day (when he would visit me again). So much I can say about it all, and I probably need to, but to keep it short, it was the next morning, after a broken sleep and conversation with my family late into the night, that I experienced what you said.
“But it’s brutal, you know. How life doesn’t stop. For anyone. How the world keeps moving forward, marching on, indifferent to whether we’re ready to move along with it. “
This was the big lesson I learned that day. The birds sang, the grey clouds got in the way of the sun again, school was open, shops were open. Life was relentless in its forward momentum and I felt like I wasn’t in it for a while. I was more of an observer. I contemplated so often the lightning speed of death. Not dying which is still a form of living, but death. As soon as as you know it to be true it has passed.
This very week in 2025 I was able to see that this lesson learned so young shaped me significantly. It planted seeds for my reverence of the present moment.
I find contemplation of death to be enlivening. I see how it can also be entirely depressing but that’s not how I see it. At least it’s both.
I loved this article today. It transported me to that part of my life which I am open to this week and I have some softness for what occurred. RIP John.
Zoe, this is beautiful. I’m sorry to hear about John. ❤️
Here I am again, being contributed to and learning from you.
And that you are connected with Tommy warms my heart.
What a journey you take us on Tommy. Journeys, actually. This was sublime:
“as if being in the presence of old things was a kind of secret and available drug. There’s this remembrance of what I am and what is waiting that becomes crystal clear in these moments.”
I so love your visits on Saturday mornings—they deepen my life—my time in between the letters and numbers on my gravestone.
🙏
Whatever effort was required on your part to bring these words to the page, and I'm guessing that it's more than we know as it appears so effortless, I am grateful to you for. Reading it was like eating a meal by a Michelin chef, you can't imagine what's involved with bringing such a thing to the table, but you can feel difference between something that is simply functional and something that is elevated to an art form.
I absolutely agree that the deepest meaning is found in the ordinary, not the 'big events.' It’s so easy to miss those small, repetitive things that are actually the foundation of life.
You mentioned romancing the ordinary. I savour daily sun rays invading my room, the view on the mountain I see every single day of my life now.
Also shifting the perspective. I stopped getting angry when my boyfriend wakes me up early by accident. Yes, its brutal to not get enough sleep. But it’s so much more important to wake up next to the love of your life.
Thanks for your essay, as always.
What a beautiful read first thing in the morning. What a poetic individual you must be.
Uf, I felt every word here. Can't be more relatable! <3
Thank you for make me feel every word of this article. Enjoying the ordinary is something we take for granted.
This is ✨amazing✨ and further solidified my plan to visit my nearest cemetery.🫡
Lovely. Anytime anyone wants to walk through a graveyard and writes about it - I am ready to read it. Thank you for this.