All Shall Be Well…

Alarm bells which had started to ring recently indicated it was now the time, to finally pay the GP, a visit and to momentarily embrace her with the pleasure of my company. ūüėČ

An ultrasound is now in the pipelines. How do I feel about that one may ask? Well, last time around I ended up in hospital fighting alongside the consultants, for my life. On one hand, I know what to anticipate this time around yet on the other hand, learning the result will determine what happens next…

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Meanwhile a diary is to be kept of any pain, the duration of and what foods I eat.

Except, to relive what was quite the nightmarish memory will be very hard going emotionally and mentally but as with then, it is a case of one step at a time, one day at a time.

My children and their happiness come first, above everything and everyone else. I am humbly reminded once more to enjoy and cherish, the now.

Patience will prevail, as will a dose of positivity. Whatever may be decreed by God’s will, have faith that all shall¬†be well… In the end.

ūüôā

~ SJ (Sara Jae)

The Six Degrees Of Separation.

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The six degrees of separation.

I have a sweet recollection to share, of a particular time long ago when a father wished to purchase for his daughter, a bag she so coveted. Mine. Was this you or perhaps, do you know them? If so, please do let me know.

I had jumped onto the train, all ready to meet friends with my roller-blades tucked away in my brand new sporting bag, that I had purchased especially.

As the tube rattled along and made its course, everyone was either reading the newspaper or dozing off encouraged by the monotonous vibrations of the train. I for one usually contemplated to pass the time.

Someone suddenly but gently tapped me on my knee, I was mildly astonished that someone wanted my attention. He explained that his daughter admired my bag and wanted to enquire as to where he could buy her, the exact same bag. I looked besides him to find his daughter being ever so shy. I remember being as shy as she once. Bless.

I seized the opportunity to draw a detailed map for them, alighting from a specific tube station, directions and the name of the shop. Even, where the bag was in the shop… His daughter seemed silently appreciative whilst her father seemed a little daunted, perhaps at the thought of making his way through crowds of people within the busy streets of London, with his daughter in tow.

My instincts told me he had at least, a little bit of experience with deaf people, knowing how to speak and listen in return. Therefore, I asked him, if he knew anyone that happened to be deaf. Much to his surprise at my evaluation, he then confessed his wife was deaf who remained in the United States whilst he was holidaying here, with their daughter.

Not forgetting the desired bag, their stop was the next one coming up. Mine was not for several stops after. He had shown me patience and kindness as a stranger, ‚ÄúWhat shall I do? I cannot leave them stranded at the mercy of body pushers” I thought‚Ķ¬† I decided to listen to my instincts and got off the train with them instead. He seemed to be somewhat surprised yet relieved that I was able to join and guide them through the bustling streets of London, which was heaving with tourists. He was no longer nervous and seemed more at ease; this meant his daughter was relatively more at peace.

Upon arriving at the shop, I showed his daughter through to where there was an identical bag to mine, waiting to be owned, by her. Different shades of gorgeous purple ‚Äď who could resist? At last, two people were happy, having been looked after, satisfactorily. I explained that I now had to go because I was meeting friends, wisely omitting that I was late. After all, it was my choice.

I bode them well, to take care and to enjoy the rest of their holiday before turning around and leaving them to continue their retail therapy. As soon as they could no longer see me, I ran like the wind to make up for lost time.

My friends at the time was wondering where I was but they could not get annoyed with me once I explained, what I had been up to. Bless their cottons!

Who knows if the ‚Äėsix degrees of separation‚Äô reasoning is viable yet my faith and trust in fate will remain. If this somehow reaches you and this has made you smile in reminiscence, being the daughter and/or the father ‚Äď ‚ÄėTwas truly, my pleasure.

ūüôā

~ SJ (Sara Jae)

A Little Angel

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I have a memory that has since been frozen in time, which I cherish, of a remarkable little girl. Her name was Rebecca Young and she was the only girl out of what seemed like a football team of boisterous brothers. One of her brothers, Wesley, is one of several beloved childhood friends of mine Рto date.

His sister, Rebecca, had piercing blue eyes, long golden hair and red lips. The very mention of “Cinderella” or “Goldilocks”, I am reminded of her with fondness. Both Wesley¬†and his sister happened to be the only ones deaf in their family so they were exceptionally close to one another.

One day towards the end of half term whilst I was home from boarding school, she came round to play. I was quite flattered that she was willing to spend time with me, at my house – without her brother even! With an abundance of laughter, we played many mentally stimulating games like ‘Pairs’ and other puzzles. She was after all, about eight years old at the time.

Little did I know then, how grateful I would be to have shared that distinctive day with her.

Boarding school meant I was away from home and my childhood friends, against my will I hasten to add so I was in for a surprise albeit a devastating one. I had returned home for the weekend two weeks later after that unfading day with Rebecca. That Sunday evening, I was packed and ready to be taken back to school except my mum stood me in the hallway; she had something to tell me.

There had been a freak accident and we would not be able to see her any more. I was confused with swirling emotions and shock since it was only quite recently that we had a play date.

‚ÄúWhat could have happened in that short space of time to such an innocent and sweet little girl?‚Ä̬† I¬†remember pondering.

I was only about eleven back then and unfortunately, I had not been so exposed to death in an adult capacity. Reluctantly, I returned to school in a state of numbness and confusion. I very much still wanted to understand and know exactly what had happened to her.

The next time I was allowed home again for the weekend, my mum had saved the local paper for me to read. They had all been aching far too much to physically tell me what had happened. As I read the paper with such care, a lump grew in my throat thus disabling me from reacting; I finally understood why she was no longer gracing us all with the pleasure of her company.

Both Rebecca and her brother, Wesley, had gone out into the fields nearby where they lived to explore. There was a developing building site adjacent to the fields and so, their ‚Äúadventure‚ÄĚ continued there. One of the large cement tubes somehow toppled onto her, crushing her underneath. Her brother went into an indescribable state of panic and ran home to get help. ¬†I can only imagine to an extent, his frustrations at not being able to communicate to his family what had happened to his one and only sister. She was ever so precious to them all, being the only girl.

She was rushed to hospital having been crushed by the weight of this gigantic (compared to her) cement contraption, this took the strength of a good handful of grown men (her big brothers) to move. A life-saving machine kept her under and going for a week or so but eventually, her overwhelmingly brave parents who were more than well-informed of their daughter’s¬†extremely delicate condition, decided to let her rest in peace, on her birthday.

She may have only been little but she was larger than life itself, impressing each and every one of us, for whom she was a little angel.

Rebecca, thank you ever so for that exceedingly memorable day and for being you xx

~ SJ (Sara Jae)