The Fork!

The Fork

There were boxes everywhere, as far as the eye could see, every room was packed, with every type of box, cardboard, wooden trunks and those cheap ones you find in pound land, storage crates, easily stackable. I was as prepared as I could be, organised agitation, would be a perfect phrase to use; each casket numbered, named and added to a list; I knew where everyone was going. This wasn’t just a short break, this was moving to foreign shores, away from the past, that just continued to linger, on and on, never seeming to clear, hanging over ones head like a dark cloud. This was something we had to do. There were no options, no going back, no second choice, this was our way to a fresh start, a new journey towards an uncertain future.

It was heading towards Christmas 2015, we had been planning our move to Spain, since the summer. Much of everything we had collected and bought together over the years was gone. For the first time in my life, I had been able to think the unthinkable, and part with the hoards of collectables, antiques and memories, I had acquired over our twenty years together. Every single item, I had, a precious memory or a link to the past, that I held so dear. These items, cherished for so long, no longer seemed important. The security I felt, by having them around, was no longer there. They had not served their purpose, it was time to let go; someone else could enjoy the fruits of my labour; hopefully it would bring them more luck in their life.

Packing up a life time of memories was not easy. Deciding what to keep, throw away, donate or sell was a difficult task for me, especially coming at such a dark time in my life. The blackness, had opened my eyes to the possibility of moving away, restarting my life and also forced me to part with some deeply personal objects, that I have to admit, I regret parting with. During times of great upheaval, stress and pressure, one does tend to make rash decisions, that one later laments, as one remembers just what they meant. Yes these are just ‘things’, but they make me who I am, they are a part of my psyche and without them, as I sit here today, recovered from bad times, I feel a little bit lost.

Nevertheless, we have made many impulsive decisions in our life, none of which I personally, look back on with regret. How could I, each mistake and success has made me the man I am today. I am still here, while many of those, I have known, are not. Like me, growing up at a difficult point in history, for the gay community, I so looked up too. My mistakes, were the same mistakes, my peers made, we were made of the same stock and suffered similar endurances; each time, moving on, mainly backwards, as I did for many years. This time we were moving forwards, starting on a completely new path. Yes it was a radical solution to what had transpired, but it was not of our own making. Things are just things; inanimate objects, with no real value and easily parted with. When ones life is at stake, there can only be one line of focus, to deviate from its path would be foolish; we knew that.

Our last Christmas in the UK, would not be like any other we had known before. There was a kind of inevitability; a finality about what was playing out in front of our eyes. I felt detached from my surroundings, a spectator to events running their course; not quite able to comprehend what was going on; indeed what would come next. I remember very little about day to day events, they were just no longer important to me. I do remember the many friends, we had built up, over such a long period of time, coming to visit, to say their goodbyes. It was a similar feeling to being visited by someone, as you lay in a hospital bed. People you rarely see, coming to pay their respects. I would imagine that when I finally leave this mortal coil, a similar level of feverish activity will take place. The usual phrases come to mind; ‘you will be sadly missed’ and ‘it wont be the same without you’, all the things said when there is a death in the family or someone is gravely ill. Of course we are very much alive and well, living our life as we have to; at that time, a deeply emotional and disturbing time, there didn’t seem to be any light at the end of the tunnel. It really was like going to ones death.

Saying goodbye to loved ones was hard; harder than one would ever imagine. It was made more difficult, knowing that we would not be returning for a very long time, if at all. Most of those who spent time with us during those last few months were extremely happy about where we were heading. For so long, those closest had been witness to our gradual decline, bought about through inaction by those who should have been there for us. It was not a period I look back on too often, but it is part of this story, that began many years before. Of course there were a few voices of decent, who had an opinion, completely at odds with what we had decided. These were very close friends at one stage, but seemed determined to wreck any chance, we had of starting a fresh.

I understand that people have different views. I completely accept that one should always speak ones mind, but what I didn’t bargain for, was the absolute detachment, through grief and incandescent vitriol thrown our way. The contempt that was directed towards us, as a couple, through manipulative behaviour, hurtful comments and the determination of others, trying to isolate us, during those last few weeks was dreadful. To this very day, I will never understand, why people, who claimed to be close, tried so hard to destroy their friendships with us. I can only suggest, that pushing people away is the easy option. I have done it myself. Sometimes in order to move on, I would cause as much trouble as I could for friendships, so their was literally no window to return; no going back! For people who can’t show emotions it is a great get out clause.

I have a lot of amazing memories from the later half of 2015. I made some very close bonds, with people I would have never thought possible. People who I had clearly misjudged and due to the upheaval in my life, had bothered to give a chance. My previous pompous, overbearing stance on many individuals had all but disappeared and I had the pleasure of finding myself in company that I only wish I had sooner. There was a kind of willing acceptance, that things were going to change very drastically and I was playing the final act, before the curtain fell. I enjoyed so many experiences, had innumerable, memorable conversations: abundant happiness, from those wanting to see us do well and copious gathering of people I had known for as long as a generation; all there to wish us well.

The negative voices did pale into insignificance towards the final day we left British shores; for that I am grateful. We were able at least to depart on a positive note. That final night, before we left, sleeping on the floor, was scary, I grant you. It wasn’t about the fear of failure it was about the anticipation, of what was to come, the unknown, what has yet to happen. That is a good, healthy fear, one we should all experience in our life time, The forks in the road, the crossroads we forge, the paths we make our own are builders of character. They are the times in our life, that make or break us. Whatever the outcome, from these enduring times, I, at least am safe, with the knowledge, that I finally stood up and was counted, today making my own journey, without the need or desire to return to a place that I called home for so many years. Funny I normally, always run back there, this time, it only exists in my memories!

---

---

---