I don’t often relive memories although occasionally they can resurface with a song, a whiff of perfume or perhaps an old friend who will reminisce about mutual acquaintances.
This memory happened to be a song. Walking through Kelvingrove Park I sat down on a wrought iron chair and marveled at the mixtures of rich late autumnal colours. The unseasonal mild weather’s breezes blew the leaves from the trees on to a golden carpet that was woven into a semi-circle beside the trees.
I heard a song from the park ranger’s buggy and immediately a few deep rooted yet traumatic episodes entered my consciousness.
The ranger’s buggy zigged zagged gently around me and I sighed aloud as the song’s lyrics and melody transported me back to December 1975…
I was twenty two and had suffered acutely both physically and emotionally two dramatic life-changing experiences. Although my husband and the rest of my family were supportive and helpful it was my own private hell.
I needed a little space to reflect and try to remain grounded.
Everybody was busy with their respective workplaces and I decided to seek solace in the park.
The park was busy with young people mostly students from the nearby University. Xmas parties were being discussed and the high-pitched excited chatter compounded my misery.
Why had life treated me so badly!
Happiness eluded me, I could gather it with my shopping into a couple of plastic carrier bags and it would dissipate into the freezer.
Children too were running in front of their mothers while the mums pushed the prams and exchanged bits of news and gossip.
They were laughing at the antics of the squirrels and ducks in the pond which I had passed earlier.
Feeling isolated, self-absorbed and without hope tears welled up in my eyes and hot salted tears ran down my face.
This was followed by uncontrollable sobs and I was unconcerned about the distraught spectacle which onlookers saw and ignored.
Possibly, embarrassment, pity and in a rush impeded any interest in my well being.
The crowd drifted out of the main entrance and dusk was becoming a comfort blanket.
Riveted and eyes closed with the sting of tears I felt firm pressure on my arm. Stiffening with fear my eyes rested on an elderly person’s frail hand and I turned to see an old bespectacled lady with soft caring eyes.
Relieved by the lady’s reassuring presence, she took her hand off my arm
and nimbly opened a packet of Kleenex.
She handed me one yet said nothing.
She watched me dry my face,push the packet of Kleenex into my hands and gripped my arm again.
Eventually the tears began to dry and this lovely lady spoke.
" It will pass".
I glanced at my watch, thanked her very much and hurried to the main gate.
When I looked round to wave she had disappeared into the night.
After that evening my spirits lifted and I shall always be grateful to my guardian angel.
Overwhelming sorrow and a fateful remedy