After months of ongoing inactivity as a result of debilitating illness, I was determined to visit at least one Heritage Open Day event this year. A local taxi was booked and off I went to Holy Trinity Church in the nearby town of Ossett whose event I had come across on the internet. It must be 10 or more years since I was last in the building as a guest at a wedding.
A long-awaited outing
The church, located around 300 feet above sea level with a 226 feet high spire, is a local landmark, making the church amongst the tallest in the country. I knew I was not going to be able to participate in one of the fascinating tours up the tower that offer panoramic views over the surrounding area but this is just one of the restrictions that I have had to learn to live with over the last 18 months or more due to illness.
Arriving at the church, the car park looked busy and on stepping inside to a warm greeting, it was evident that a lot of people, including a good number of families, had decided on the same visit as me.
In true Yorkshire fashion, the first thing to do was enjoy a coffee and a piece of scrumptious apple cake, so I approached the little counter and ordered only to be faced with a very familiar face that I hadn’t seen for probably 10 years or more. What a surprise and what a delight! Aldine and I were born five days apart and our mothers attended post-natal classes and clinics at the same time. It always amazes me how, when you meet someone after a long while, you just pick up the conversation as if you had last seen each other yesterday.
Old friends and milestones
The conversation soon moved to the fact that we would both be celebrating (if that is the right word) our 65th birthdays. She had definitely aged better than me; she was in good health and looked way less than her years and, I will be honest, I felt a touch of jealousy. Sadly, she soon had to return to the refreshment counter. Our chance encounter made me both delighted to have seen her yet unsettled over the course my life has taken over the last couple of years. This feeling wasn’t helped when the thought went through my head that I would have to tell my mum who I had seen. My mother having died some 21 years ago next month.
Those years have most definitely taken their toll physically, but it was not until 10 days ago after returning home from a day case operation that I realised how badly my mental health and ability to function properly on a daily basis had been affected. My home was always clean and tidy, and the walls covered in art. That was just one thing that had gone by the wayside having been unable to lift or bend, and it didn’t seem to bother me. I just didn’t invite people in. The joy of reading, which had been a constant in my life, had faded away. The vibrant life I had lived working in the history, heritage, and community sectors and filled with travel, theatre, and exploration seemed like a distant memory. I found myself feeling really sorry for myself and my future appeared bleak.
Hopeful beginnings
The past few days though have almost been a revelation. A friend, both kind and practical, pointed out how far I had slipped. His offer of help, along with the beginning of a series of operations aimed at improving my health, has ignited a spark of hope. Life may never be the same as it once was but that was the past, wonderful as it was. The future is mine to shape, and there is still much to look forward to.
As I spoke with a church steward, she shared how they had removed the pews several years ago – a decision that hadn’t been universally popular. “Yes, it was different,” she said, “but it opened up so many opportunities we hadn’t even thought about.” Her words resonated with me. My future, like the church’s, may not look exactly as it once did, but it holds possibilities I hadn’t considered.
There are still challenges ahead – more operations, more healing – but I’ve restarted my freelance work, much of it from home, and with time and treatment I hope to do more. The past is something to appreciate, but the future is something to build.
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