A wobbly week

I’ve had a wobbly week.

The first wobble came when I learned of a friend’s death on Facebook. There’s no good way to learn about someone’s death but when you discover it scrolling through Facebook the shock feels particularly brutal. One minute you’re looking at a video of someone’s cat being all cute, and the next it’s like you’ve been punched in the gut.

I last saw my friend who died about a year ago, when I was visiting my old home town and I bumped into her in the street. We chatted for a couple of minutes and had a hug, and off I went, so certain I’d one day see her again it didn't cross my mind for a second that I might not.

And now I know I won’t. And the finality of that fact is heart-breaking.

Prior to our meeting that day in the street, I hadn’t seen my friend in years. But once upon a time she was my dance teacher and I saw her every week.

And every week she shone her bright light upon those of us lucky enough to be taught by her. I know this might sound corny or cliched, but there was something truly angelic about her - a light that shone from deep within.

I never, ever heard her say a bad word about anyone; a sweet, all-encompassing love seemed to radiate from her every pore.

Then one night she went to sleep and never woke up. Just like that - gone.

And yet she’s not.

She had such a powerful, loving presence, and such a positive impact on my life in the years that I danced with her, that she’ll forever be a part of me. And I know that everyone else who was lucky enough to have known her will say the same.

Then came the second wobble of the week, when my son messaged me from an air raid shelter in Kyiv. 

Sadly, air raid warnings are all too commonplace in Ukraine, happening most nights. But this alert had gone off in the afternoon, and the Russians have been regularly bombing Kyiv in the past few weeks, so I instantly felt uneasy.

Wanting to try and find out more, I took to twitter and found the following report: ‘Air raid alert in Kyiv and across Ukraine. Rocket watchers report on a Russian MIG-31 aircraft carrying a single hypersonic missile.’

There then followed one of the most terrifying 30 minutes of my life as I thought of my son, on his own in an air raid shelter in Kyiv, while a ‘hypersonic missile’ could be heading his way.

Thankfully, it was a false alarm, and the all clear was sounded. But for that half an hour or so I got a taster of what all Ukrainians are experiencing right now, every single day, as the Russians bomb their country, hoping and praying that their loved ones stay safe.

My son is taking it all in his stride - and the more he witnesses in Ukraine, the more motivated he is to help. One of the projects he’s currently working on is setting up a camp in Romania for displaced and orphaned Ukrainian children.

from my son in Ukrtaine

I’m beyond proud of him and fully support him being there, but thinking of him experiencing air raids on a regular basis is a lot to get my head around. Thinking of an entire European country in 2023 experiencing air raids on a regular basis is a lot to get my head round!

But as I write this to you and reflect on the wobbles I’ve experienced this week, I see that there’s a common theme and a couple of important takeaways.

The first being the importance of making love your focus if you want to make a real and lasting difference in the world.

And the second being that life is infinitely precious and fragile. 

We never know what might happen tomorrow … but that doesn’t have to be a bad or sad thing. Remembering how precious and fragile life is can help us to live with appreciation and intention. It can help us to focus on what and who really matters. It can bring us back to love.

Until next week, and with so much love and gratitude to you for being part of the Wonderstruck community,

Siobhan