I have always seen “weakness” as a defect and here on this blog I say a lot about what I consider to be my own weaknesses – the narrative playing in my head and here on these pages for years has been a fear that I am too broken and weak to be useful at all….
I live in a place of morbidity, where death hangs round, a constant companion. When you have lost a parent you are constantly aware. Each moment, even pointless ones, are fraught with weighty meaning because there may be no more. And yet there has been so much pain, roads traveled, days endured the blue devils of hell traversed together….