By Kay Morrison

The Best-Laid Plans

”The best-laid plans o mice an men gang aft agley.”

So true, I thought, as I travelled to be with a friend whose husband had just died. They were married for over 50 years and probably expected their lives to continue in predictable fashion for quite a while more but nature had other ideas. The shock, distress, and adjustment are inevitable; we did everything we could to help our friend come to terms with the cruelty of her partner’s death, its finality and suddenness.

We talked. We talked a lot. The years slip through our fingers, in spite of us. We try to hold back the happiness; we had believed it would last.

“But pleasures are like poppies spread,

You seize the flower: its bloom is shed;

Or, like the snow fall in the river, 

A moment white, then melts forever.”

My friend is grieving but she’s a strong woman who knows she will go on, supported by those who care about her. She’s starting to plan her future. She’s a gardener; she’ll tend her local hospital garden and experiment with shrubs and fruit trees. They’ll help her heal. The rest of us wish we had a magic strategy to ease her through but that’s not how it works and it’s not about us, is it?

”Oh would some power the giftie give us

To see ourselves as others see us.”  

Indeed.

We’re almost as powerless and fearful as that wee moose:

”Wee sleekit, cowering, tim’rous beastie,

O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!”

We have to accept that death’s part of life, whether we like it or not. We can make each day meaningful and joyous, appreciating the little pleasures that come our way while appreciating each other. We can try to be in the moment. (Must remember that at the next meeting.) We can remember our important ones who’ve gone and be glad they were in our lives. We can.

”For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne,

We’ll tak a cup o kindness yet for auld lang syne”.

Thank you, Rabbie.

Robert Burns 1759 – 1796

Birthday 25 January