Filed under: A Bit Of Inspiration, Attitude & Aptitude, Birthday, Jill, Love, Paul
So this week is a week of important birthdays for me.
Mine.
Jill’s.
Paul’s.
However the good news for you, is that only my birthday falls on a day I write a post … so you will only have to endure one over-written post rather than the 3. Or as the old saying goes, ‘it’s my birthday, but you get the present’.
God … what a tragic start to this post.
Anyway … while I will leave you to spend the rest of the day desperately trying to get your huge gift to me in NZ in time, I will leave you with a post about love.
Not mine.
Not about someone I know.
But the sort of love that I think embodies what love is supposed to be about.
It’s about actors Jason Watkins and Clara Francis.
You might not know them – or you may only know them from some of the roles they’ve had – but recently they were in The Guardian Newspaper talking about their relationship … their families … love, loss and the pain of broken hearts and enduring relationships.
Put simply, it was one of the most beautiful expressions of compassion, love and consideration I’ve ever read.
Ever. Read.
Not just towards each other, but also towards their family, Jason’s ex-wife and the daughter they lost through sepsis.
You are left in no doubt they are incredible people and an incredible family.
One bonded tightly together … appreciating who each other is, what each other brings [and needs] and how each person works.
It’s a beautiful, chaotic, engaged and alive type-of-love … one where you’re left in no doubt why it works and why they have been able to continue when the loss of a child often results in the breakdown of many relationships.
In essence it’s a celebration of humanity … and I include Jason’s ex-wife in this, because in their darkest hour, she rented a flat near them so she could support them. If that sounds strange, bizarrely, once you’ve read the article, it all seems to make perfect sense.
There’s so many parts I love.
How Jason describes Clara’s family.
How Clara would ‘accidentally-on-purpose’ bump into Jason at the supermarket.
The way they would always keep an ear out for how the other was doing, even when life had moved on.
But it’s the way Jason talks about Clara that really gets me. Especially the last part of his last paragraph where he says:
“Clara illuminates any room. Every year, her light becomes brighter.”
I’ve written before how Jill doesn’t like being the centre of attention – even as a blog post, hence there is no accompanying photo of her even though I would love to – but the way Jason talks about Clara is how I feel about Jill.
But it’s more than a light for me, it’s warmth.
A feeling of where I belong.
Where I am needed and wanted.
Where I need and want to be.
He says so much more than that and I loved and hated every word because it’s just so bloody perfect.
I often struggle to find the words to express what Jill means to me. What she has done for me. But he has done it.
And while it is about Clara, it is also perfect about Jill. Except I can’t say it to her because they’re his words, not mine.
So I hope one day she reads this.
She won’t be happy I’ve made this about her, but I hope she’ll see past that to feel the words.
Of course, I hope she also knows this through my actions, but it’s nice for my heart to feel able to properly speak.
We’ve been together 20 years now.
We’ve gone through a lot.
And while there has been times I’ve sadly let her down, she’s never done the same to me.
Through thick and thin, she’s been a rock.
A kind, compassionate, super-supportive, super-strength, super-human.
Whatever the future holds, it’s brighter for having her in it with me … which is surely the greatest gift anyone could ever have?
So to my darling Jill.
Thank you for everything you are.
I love your strength, your smarts, your bravery and your love.
I hope you have a beautiful birthday on the 15th and I’ll be doing everything I can to make it that way.
Big hugs and kisses to you my love and big thanks to Jason [and Clara] for the words my heart wanted to speak, but didn’t know how to say.
You can read the rest of them … and the story that affected me so much, here.