Sliding Doors

I have always been a little fascinated by the idea of the film "Sliding Doors", that small moments in our lives can create complete divergences.  Our lives can become layers of an onion, with many scenarios and outcomes based on the most seemingly insignificant decision.   Losing Freddie was no small moment and so there is an irony  of a sort that life without him is mostly all about him.  Instead of having his little physical being, we have a life filled with thoughts and ideas and people as a direct consequence of him.  This seems to be in conflict with the sliding doors notion of a relationships demise leading to a life filled with everything but the person who has exited.

Today I went to the florist on the way to the burial ground.   Before Freddie died I didn't know the florist existed.  The usual lady wasn't there, I said to her "I don't know you....I come here a lot to get flowers for my son, he's at Sun Rising..." etc etc.  We started talking started.  We couldn't stop talking.  Her son died four years ago at the age of 35.  He is buried at Sun Rising.   She practices Reiki and Crystal healing.  She looked at me intently, intensely and insisted that i have the necklace from round her neck.  Her mother gave it to her.  I said I couldn't possibly, she said she had to.  She spoke a lot about stepping stones and how I needed an invisible shield - to imagine it when I don't feel safe.   When I left her we hugged, I cried, she kissed my cheek and we agreed to see each others sons graves.  So I did just that.  I found her sons grave and told him how lovely his mum had just been.  

After this I thought of another person brought into my life because my son left.   More kindness and support.   As I hiked across Sun Rising with my eldest we talked about the kindness of strangers and how different life is - how we would never be walking over to the compost heap at the burial ground to dispose of more of Freddie's old flowers if he'd stayed.   My son said "we would never have met all these amazing people".  I snapped back "I'd rather have my son".  And then I remembered that of course we would.  We would all like to go back to the station platform and not miss the train next time.  But perhaps Freddie, in his physical absence, made sure I was surrounded by kindness.  Without these unique and caring individuals I would be stuck at the station, not knowing which way to turn. Instead I'm being gently guided on a different path.  It's not one I want, but I have no choice and thankfully I'm not alone.