Two years on

Two years can change the world. The day after my eldest turned two, my youngest was born, and life was never the same again. In two years, I went from a new graduate nurse to a nurse now with many hats: specialist nurse in oncology, private practice nurse for a medical consultant, and a nursing clinical facilitator for a university. We have lost a grandparent, a friend, a friend’s mum and a little girl who knew, all to the grasps of death.

I grieve for the father I lost two years ago, not to illness or misadventure, but to a bitter divorce. He chose to lie and betray us, for the want of another family. My children have also lost their grandpapa and his involvement in their lives. No clues, no warning, nothing at all to indicate otherwise. It is sad and disappointing, and it is grief of a different kind.

My eldest picked up his first cello two years ago, a tiny 1/10 size. He now plays first cello in his primary school’s junior strings group on a 1/8 cello. He’s grown to my chest height before I knew it. My youngest began intensive speech therapy two years ago, with an estimate of just 0.4-2% of functional language. He’s now at a mainstream school full time with about 50% of functional language and cheeky as anything. Two years change a lot.

What did the world look like two years ago? The Rohingya crisis, the Brexit referendum, the fall of ISIS, Trump becomes president of USA, hurricanes, missiles, depression. What will it look like in two years’ time? The 2020 vision touted by governments and businesses alike would already be a thing of the past. Global climate crisis would be recognised. We would all be older, wiser and more humane, hopefully.