Serial Griever: Intangible Inheritance

I’ve realised in my (almost) adult life that we are all made up of tiny pieces of the experiences and people that pass through our lives. Individuality is created from the puzzling together of everything and everyone we have ever encountered. I think using this image of being, especially when you are scrambling for connection with a lost loved one, is extremely valuable. My family and I have collected a series of habits and patterns that all tie back to my mother. My dog, for example, answers to the metallic jump of the toaster better than she does to me. Mum used to feed her the last little nibble of her morning slice, and now, in true Pavolvian style, every time the toaster pops, my dog comes running.

As this is my final year being safely bubbled in St Andrews, I have been haunted with the question of “what next?” How do I honour my past and what I have inherited whilst forging a path forward into the dense unknown? I will take her strength and fire on with me as I move against what is traditionally done, follow that little feeling in my gut, and listen to that voice in my brain. This may not be entirely rational, but neither was she all the time. I was raised to trust my gut — to trust that inner instinct whilst you lean into uncertainty and give everything you have got.

My old family motto dating back to pre-Highland Clearances is “stand fast” — stand fast against the challenges life throws at you. This saying has filtered through generations and iterations of my family line, finally making its way to me. This is my inheritance, and I choose to live by it. It has held me and my family through the darkest of times. It kept my mum moving despite all of the odds. So, if there is anything I can leave you with as we enter the festive period (which, personally, I am dreading) it’s this: stand fast. I will see you on the other side.

Illustration by Aoife White