The Likely Resolutions of Oliver Clock

by Jane Riley

Like talking to yourself. Ordering pantry items in alphabetical order. Storing balled-up socks in colour-coordinated rows in a drawer. Buying microwave meals for one when you should be cooking from scratch, because you really do love to cook. And fantasising – writing lists of things you’d like to do, imagining a life that isn’t yours, all from the comfort of your sofa. Mine are rather like New Year’s resolutions. Except I make them at any time of the year, whenever I think my life needs reviving

Thou shalt not grow too large to fit comfortably into a standard-size coffin: I must start exercising.

It gave me a sense of hopefulness that maybe this time I might actually get off the sofa and carry out some of my desires. Thou shalt be messy: I must refrain from excessive tidiness.

Thou shalt broaden your social life: I must make friends with people other than those who have passed on.

Grief takes many forms. It’s like the sky: one minute rolling with angry thunderclouds and rain, the next lightly sprinkled with cumulonimbus

But eventually, I promise, the clouds will lift and then dissipate to reveal a freshly washed blue sky.

You’ve got to accept all the different cloud formations that come and go and may do so for some time yet. They’re all part of the process, Oliver. Do not berate yourself for the clouds, do not worry if they hang around, do not fret if they bring storms; let them. Let them wash you, cleanse you, refresh you.

Thou shalt enjoy the feeling of knowing you were loved and not let it get you down. Thou shalt try something new. Thou shalt get out of your comfort zone, maybe even take a risk.

Thou shalt not let life choose how you live.