A Sense Of Loss

There's been an awful lot going on for all of us in the last six months, and we still aren’t out of the woods yet as they say. I think the one thing I have still to come to terms with is a sense of loss. Loss of my way of life.

We all threw ourselves into lockdown with the blitz spirit. I remember when it was announced that I might have to spend twelve weeks in such a state, I thought it an impossibility. Yet twenty weeks later and my life is still not in any way back to the shape it was, and I’m carrying on.

I don’t go out for meetings. As a freelancer my meetings used to take place in other peoples offices and many of them have not reopened those offices. My day would be a journey to the meeting, a meeting, lunch with a mate and then back home for a nap, or dinner with my better half and an evening in front of the box.

We have had no shortage of the latter. Saturday night movie night. Monday to Friday — TV and Netflix night. We’ve seen some fabulous stuff, _Succession, The End Of The Fucking World, Mindhunter, American Horror Stories, Queen and Slim,_ as well as some absolute shite — I will refrain from mentions in that category.

I’ve written the first draft of my second novel and now returning to the beginning of it and editing chapters I wrote in March, it comes back to me as a surprise — some of it pleasant.

I’ve done a diploma course in Criminal psychology and passed with distinction. And we formed a quiz night group of our friends who didn’t really know each other and have now become the most brilliant and supportive group possible. We’ve had odd little socially distanced meet ups and Richard and I have done very well on the lunch visits. Gardens, sunshine and gorgeous people.

And yet I have a sense of loss. I have lost the normal. My job has never been one you would call routine. Acting, writing, directing, all freelance and peripatetic occupations that change my schedule from hour to hour let alone day to day.

Yet here I am. Up at the same time. Exercise bike and physio exercises. And then into rounds of Zoom meetings with coffee and sending e-mails. I stopped the daily walks even though I needed the exercise, the pointlessness of going out for a walk to nowhere everyday soon dawned on me. Now I limit it to a long walk with a good friend every ten days or so. A chance to chat and to acknowledge what we have lost, and what we still have and what might lie ahead.

I know from personal experience that it takes a long time to mourn. We mustn’t be afraid to do that in the current clime. Register what is lost, but also look forward to what is yet to come.