We drank tea but conversation collided clumsily between us. Apprehension shaped discomfort and perhaps I was trying too hard to bring a rhythmic flow to our chat. After all Elizabeth had been a friend for a considerable time and I had always valued her friendship.
My eyes withdrew to the intricate patterns of mizzling rain on the windows, and I became absorbed by the beauty of the design. The pitter-patter of raindrops tapping on the window calmed me. My body softened and my eyes observed life at play on the busy street. There is something about Cork City which attracts me.
I travelled up from West Cork a day earlier and booked myself into a bed and breakfast in the south side of the city. I just couldn’t bear the considerable commute to the city and back. I had spent the previous evening in a state of excitement and anticipation, looking forward to re-uniting with Elizabeth. I was eager to hear all her news. Now sitting in my favourite restaurant, there were moments I began to regret my decision to meet up with her.
With a reasonable amount of time passing and a knot in my heart I eventually made my excuse to leave. I think the feeling was mutual, Elizabeth also gave no hint of meeting up in the future as we said our goodbyes. Despite my best undertakings to hold on to the friendship, distance lay between us. Elizabeth, now baggy-figured with tight slate grey curls had become more like an acquaintance.
Once Elizabeth, deeply devout, the eternal optimist with servant leadership skills nurtured me through my dark days of crisis. Days when I found myself in the distressing situation of questioning my beliefs and my purpose. Nothing was ever too challenging for Elizabeth as she accompanied me through the dark shadows of doubt, fear and confusion.
I wanted so much to hold onto this friendship. I really didn’t want to let go someone who was once so easy to be with and truly understood me. What had happened to change that. Did our friendship shift due to Covid19 lockdown? That was it – surely.
Perhaps, one of life’s learning curves is to understand when the right time is to exit. Holding on to something or someone that has no room for you only sours the good that once was. It only creates a sense of frustrated existence and most probably limited growth. A smile spans my lips, at least Elizabeth and I left with no real ill will. She turned her head as she approached the door gave me a huge honey smile which made me feel cherished despite my uneasy feelings. Oh, my dearest Elizabeth, I will always remember you and the good times.
Elizabeth faded into the distance, and for several minutes I stood, motionless and numb, then the light of God broke in. Realisation came upon me slowly and as much as it pains me to say Elizabeth had done what was required. Elizabeth role in life was to mentor. Elizabeth had always followed diligently the path of a pilgrim. Like a mother hen to her chick, it was time for me to take flight from the nest. After all, I was no longer in crisis; I had transcended, and Elizabeth had observed that. I was walking my own path unaccompanied and had been doing so for several years. Her time of mentoring me had come to its conclusion and now Elizabeth would probably be accompanying someone else on their spiritual path. I knew she was a woman of few words, who disliked idle chat and gossip, so the question must be posed why did I feel so rattled over lunch?
My friendship with Elizabeth always takes me back to a job, of which I have fond memories. It was there where I met her. Elizabeth lived her faith through quiet action. She never once hurled scripture at me, nor made me feel less than. I must admit there were times when I followed a charismatic path of faith that I often left a service holding back the tears. There was a quiet decorum about Elizabeth which I wanted to emulate. A stillness that suggested quiet authority. For some one like me who had quite a bit of chaos in her life, and someone who felt the weight of barbed controlling comments from fellow Christians it was soothing balm to be in the presence of someone who was quiet.
At this point I ought to mention that my workplace was more a vocation than a job. To be fair I ought not even describe it as a job. Yes, payment was involved but other than that I felt that I had joined a family. If I do describe it as a job, I can honestly say that it was the only job I had in my whole life which I never once felt that I didn’t want to go in.
There has been occasions especially on nights which lie long, thumping niggles of regret come alive about my decision to leave. At the time I was at University College Cork studying Youth and Community Work. A requirement of my final year was a block placement of six months. My placement was in Donegal, which rendered it impossible to keep my job and pursue this requirement to attain my degree. So, rather reluctantly I said goodbye to the best job I ever had. Up until the place closed, I often wondered whether I had made the right decision. I questioned myself over and over what I gained from doing three years at U.C.C other than its usefulness in understanding personality profiles which is useful in creating comic characters.
I straightened my hunched shoulders and braved the flash mob of rain which drenched the pavements. Despite the attraction I have for Cork, this time I viewed but with dissimilar eyes; Cork seemed different. My heart stirred with sadness.
Sadly, my old workplace closed several years ago leaving me to wonder whether there was any space left for spiritual seekers in the city. I let out a slow sigh and my eyes widened as I noticed that my favourite boutique had also closed. A tear pricked my cheek as awareness comes upon me that I am no longer feel part of this city. In essence, I have moved on.
As I ventured back to my comforting haven in The Sheep’s Head a strange sadness overwhelmed me. It’s the sadness of knowing that I have come face to face with an ending. I have exited but new residents will come aboard and it will be a city for them. But I can also attest to a happiness perhaps a sense of the joy moving into a new chapter with a satchel of good Cork memories. Any thought of moving back to the city had diminished.
Change is inevitable and if we conspire to remain it stunts healthy growth. After all, we can’t be the same person as we were ten, twenty or thirty years ago. In our fast-paced world I often feel we move so quickly that we often fail to recognise the fact that change plays in our lives. As we speed along everything become so familiar, that is until we hit crisis. Transition is a part of life, we hit land mark stages of our lives but overlook it except for paying out exorbitant amounts of cash for a 21st birthday. I would argue that a one evening celebration isn’t adequate. Perhaps society doesn’t like us to stop to take time to slowly go through change.
Living in Cork was for a time, a valuable period of my life and as in the way of aging, old spaces once familiar to the city are elbowed out for new contemporary spaces. Elizabeth was and still is a friend and with a new understanding I have come to term that it was for a season. Elizabeth is not a small talk type of person. She honours her role which sadly seems to be declining nowadays. I am confident that I could call on her if she was in trouble I could contact her. I fully understand that her gift to me, is giving me a new insight into faith and the tools to walk my own path and that is why I am here in The Sheep’s Head, to contemplate and reflect.
VR Stories 