It will all come to pass

Strange anniversary yesterday. It was two years to the day since they buried my sister. A lot of things came to the surface in the time following her death and, in my mind, the emphasis fell on her being my half-sister, from a different father. Yeah, a lot of things came to the surface, and led me to the decision that I would no longer have contact with my family.

I didn't go to her funeral. A problem already existed that threatened to turn the occasion into a farce, had I been present. It was then suggested that my absence was a great shame, because I would have provided some emotional support to my family. In truth, a confrontation with members of my family, some months earlier, had provided me with a moment in which I'd realised that our relationship had not been based on any measure of respect, on either side. The full implications of that had become apparent during my sessions with a counsellor, which had been a required part of my course of study at the time.

I decided to go dancing last night. I'd made a promise to a friend, who didn't turn up. The bar poured my drink into a dirty glass, and I complained about it, only realising when I got back to my table that I had handed them a ten pound note, and they had given me change for a five. It was too late to bring the mistake to their attention. Leaving early, so they'd get no more of my money, became the preferred option. Dehydration wasn't an option.

Before going out, I'd known that I was going to simply watch the dance class, rather than take part. A woman who'd tried to coerce me into sleeping with her, and had spent the time since harassing me and telling anyone who'd listen that I'd messed with her feelings, deliberately placed herself in my line of sight. Internally, I laughed at her childish behaviour. Sitting at a table across the room were people who had welcomed her with open arms to the Salsa class I once attended regularly, and had turned a blind eye to her attempts to eject me from that class and the wider dance scene.

Sometimes I question my commitment to not refusing a dance. I knew that, strangely oblivious to my contempt for them, those ladies who'd enabled the bully would ask me to dance. Leaving early became more set in my mind as the only option.

The few dances I had after the class had ended reminded me that feelings are temporary. The smile on my face was genuine, despite everything. Maybe that's the lesson that was learned. Everything is temporary. My half-sister's presence was temporary. My connection with my family was temporary. Friendships, also, are temporary. It's in our nature, however, to shrink back in terror in the face of impermanence - to pine for what once was and become anxious about what will be. We hold on to the things we should let go, and maybe all too easily let go of the things to which we should hold on.

Really, the only thing we have at this moment is the present.