Object 003 - N.013 : Kelvingrove Tree
This is part of a series as I document the life of a dress worn and lived in, in one real life, in the Highlands of Scotland. Object 003: Highland Mess Dress
Well, this post is a slightly difficult one to write, but it's overall positive.
The last time I was in Glasgow with my partner, we got a surprise call from the hospital telling us he needed urgent brain surgery. We had to wait for a call back, as someone had fucked up and told us about the surgery, before telling us why he needed it.
We were just there for a fun day out in the summer, but suddenly it turned into a life-altering day. One of those days that divides life into "before" and "after".
As always, we try to stay positive in difficult situations, so we continued with our day as best as we could. We were sitting under the big tree, on the right as you come into Kelvingrove museum, waiting for a consultant to call. I was pacing up and down the grass texting my bff, trying to get some emotional support so I could be the emotional support to my partner. While he called his family to let them know. It felt like hours, but I think it was about one.
"Our" Tree
Finally we got the call that told us he had a brain tumour. As well as the details of surgery that needed to happen ASAP. We scribbled it all down in a sketchbook he'd taken to draw in.
We gathered ourselves and, somehow, had an amazing day together despite the shock. It felt like one of those "Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die" moments, but with a lot of desperate hope mixed in.
Here's a silly photo I took under the tree, not long after we found out, with the sun in our eyes. This was 3 years ago. I remember trying to be funny to help us get through it, but every joke was laced with this deep fear of the future.
And here we are on Monday in the same spot, still having an amazing life together. Only he's missing part of his brain now. Thankfully it barely had an effect, but his jokes got cornier.
We decided to rewrite our memories under that tree, not just to be one of shock and devastation. But perseverance and strength. We talked about all the what-ifs. What if we'd never found out? What if we let the fear win? What if we'd never got our chance to be together? What if that surgery didn't even exist yet? It was a really beautiful moment of reflection.
I remember a really long time ago I was at Landmark in Carrbridge and a woman in front of me in the queue mentioned that her partner had cancer. She was just enjoying her day with her partner and kids. I thought, there's no way I could cope with that and get on with things as normal. But here I am, doing it. I don't even know how. I thought the tears would never stop but they did. Human brains are quite amazing in what they can adapt to. And getting into another art form at that time really helped me cope.
On Monday under that tree, we agreed that sometimes the pain in life makes every other moment so much more beautiful. We've had some amazing trips and moments since that call changed everything. Including watching Morcheeba live, together, 3 years later on this trip.
We sat in the exact same spot and had a vape/smoke under the tree. We used what we could find within arms reach to add more marks to the dress.
There's a metaphor about seeing beauty through pain in here somewhere
I knelt in this spot and kissed him, and thought about how grateful I am to still be able to do that. It left a muddy mark on my knee.
Then we headed back up the road, the same familiar route home to the Highlands.
Easy on the brakes!
Stopping at Perth Broxden, where I purposely sat on this box with bird shit on it 🤢 At what point does this dress become a biohazard?
What a lovely note to end on 😂