Today we're delighted to welcome Colette McBeth as part of the blog tour for her latest psychological thriller - The Life I Left Behind - sharing her thoughts on what she would like to change in her life and how she'd like to be remembered....
What I’d like to leave behind…
There’s a passage in The Life I
Left Behind, one of the few from the after world, where Eve recalls discussing
her regrets with the others who are in limbo with her. ‘Mainly it was the
mundane preoccupations people would change. I wouldn’t, for instance, have
agonised for weeks over which shade of white to paint my kitchen.’
I did wonder when I wrote those
lines if Eve was talking directly to me. I’m a sucker for a paint chart. I’ve
probably spent an annual salary on those little tester pots. In truth, it’s
unlikely I’ll stop. But if Eve was talking to me she should know I haven’t
ignored her completely. Writing her made me realise how fragile life is, that
we don’t get to choose the moment we’ll go. If she’s taught me anything it’s
how to get things in perspective; the unfinished interior projects, the laundry
pile, the kids dressing like they’ve been shopping blindfolded at TK Maxx. They
don’t matter. Not really.
If you allow them to, and I often
do, there are millions of trivial worries that can consume you. Sometimes my
head feels like one throbbing, ever changing to -do list. So in Eve’s honour I’m
trying to care less about them because if I go what I’d like to leave behind is
this; a live well lived. Not a list ticked off. I want to free up space in my
head to enjoy the moment, allow my children one last kick of the ball in the
park and silence the ticking clock in my head that screams ‘It’s almost tea
time, we’ve got to go home.’ I don’t want to lose sleep about school costumes,
or present I’ve forgotten to send. Finding time for a friend, making her laugh,
smiling at a stranger in the street, talking to an old lady because I might be
the only person she’ll talk to all day, all week, that’s what matters.
I’ve often thought I’d like to
leave behind letters to my children, doling out sage advice when they come of
age. If I was organised I’d write them now, tell them how much I love them,
tell the boys to remember to change their clothes occasionally, that deodorant
doesn’t count if you haven’t washed, that even when their heart is broken it
will repair. Tell my daughter she is beautiful, that she can do anything she
wants, urge her to stand out, not follow, that when she’s older she doesn’t
have to wax everywhere if she doesn’t
want to.
But knowing me I’ll never get
around to it. So instead I’ll try to change a little bit every day. Because if
I do go, inconveniently and before my time, that way they might remember me not
as an angry clock watcher, cajoling them to get in the bath, get out of the
bath, do their homework, go to sleep. They might remember me as someone who
loved life enough not to give a shit. And they might do the same.
If that’s all I could leave behind
it would be enough.
To find out more about Colette McBeth
visit her author website
publisher website
check out Maryom's reviews The Life I Left Behind
Precious Thing
To find out more about Colette McBeth
visit her author website
publisher website
check out Maryom's reviews The Life I Left Behind
Precious Thing