we return

Aberlady Bay Local Nature Reserve, 5 May

I’ve been waiting to write this one, waiting for the right moment, waiting until I find the right words. And then, after writing it, I was waiting on the right moment to share it. Weeks passed. I rewrote part of it. I felt stuck by this post, but maybe now, almost a year on from this walk, it’s finally the right time to share this one.

My previous post from Aberlady Bay Local Nature Reserve in East Lothian, titled the day after, shared our first walk here on 20 April 2024, the day after Bracken left us. His passing marked the end of our parenthood, this part of our lives that we held so dear. The most important part of my life. We came here on that April Saturday as we needed a different walk, an unfamiliar place, a place where we wouldn’t meet anyone we knew as this nature reserve isn’t dog-friendly. It’s why we’d never walked here before.

And we returned on this Sunday two weeks later as this place had touched me on that first Saturday. It had touched both of us. We found peace here, and, I guess, on this first Sunday in May, we needed more peace.

We’d returned to this beach in between these dates, on 26th April last year, but from the other direction, having walked along the coastal path from Gullane to Gullane Point, arriving on the beach in sparkling sunshine. It was high tide and the water was so absolutely calm and clear, glistening with a thousand diamonds in the sunlight. We sat on some rocks and watched this breathtaking light on the water, and as I sat there, thinking of our boys, I wondered whether this light was a gift, a message: we’re okay. I remember this feeling distinctly.

So, on this Sunday, we returned. The sky was moodier this time, but beautiful; a vast sky of layered clouds, with rain in the distance, and soft light.

Walking here, our grief was also layered. And alongside this, we were talking about Raf. Because we’d been talking about Raf for months, since late November 2023 when a random web search led to a phone call led to another phone call that led to Raf, and led to me learning that he was related to both Harris and Bracken. The detail that kept Raf present in our minds and conversations. The hope that he would join us with Bracken alongside the worry that Bracken might not like this idea. All of the questions: would they get along? Would Bracken grow to accept him? Would Raf help keep Bracken motivated and younger than his years? Would Raf cope leaving his young and exuberant hound family and living with an elderly, curmudgeonly Spud?

And then, none of these questions mattering because here we were… but also, after all these conversations and reflections, and after that sense that perhaps Raf was meant to be, we were still wondering… should we?

Those in-between weeks were hard for many reasons, and one of the hardest was the end of parenthood, this absence that we could never have imagined. I felt lost without this part of my identity.

I walked along this shelly beach above, scanning for interesting shells and pebbles, aware of the treasure that I was gently crunching across as I let my mind unravel, focusing on the textures and hues. A favourite thing for me, as you know.

‘They will always be your sons.’ The words came to me out of nowhere, as I gazed at the ground, at the shells. A sentence so clear in my mind. The realisation that parenthood had not ended with Bracken’s passing, and that welcoming Raf into our lives didn't change this. The lads will always be our sons.

A year on from this moment, I know this to be true. Now, we’re a family of three, but, on another level, we feel like a family of five as the lads as still present in so many ways: in our understanding of things, in how we choose to spend our time, in the familiar paths and places, and in our conversations and shared memories. Harris and Bracken are so distinctly missing, yet also, in another way, so much a part of us.

I walked up over these rocks to take in the view beyond, looking down to the slabs of rock extending below me, and to the layers of cloud above, the depth of the blue echoed across the water. A view that was both expansive and yet enveloping in its gentle tones. This is a beautiful corner of East Lothian, from the incredible stretch of pristine beach within the nature reserve to this rugged, rocky shoreline at Gullane Point. I can understand why this area doesn’t welcome canine companions, given the birdlife here, but I wish we could walk in this quiet place with Raf. I want to go back and linger, and maybe I need to have a solo walk here, another photo walk, because this landscape is filled with inspiring details.

And maybe it’s also about simply standing here, quietly absorbing these views as the light shifts over the Forth.

Aberlady Bay Local Nature Reserve, East Lothian, 5 May 2024.

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