Just say yes. That’s what I did when one of my friends, casually suggested last November, going to see Pink in concert this Summer. I had seen her before many years ago and to go again, this time with my daughter, was an experience I couldn’t pass up
We were a group of 10 ladies in the end, my daughter being the youngest by a considerable margin. As the concert date neared, I was very nervous. I had lived in London, commuted in London and been to countless shows and concerts in and around the capital so I was alarmed by my sudden sense of dread. I really wanted to go. My daughter wanted to go but taking a child to an absolutely packed area of London was daunting. I had done it before with my niece back in 2014 but I was a little more chilled then, not to mention a lot younger and fully sighted.
Had my desire to have this moment with my daughter caused me to be reckless in my decision to take her? Was 8 years old too young? What if something happened? Could I still protect her and look out for her as much as I used too? My mind was racing and I was starting to drive myself a little crazy, even heading to Google to see what the genereal consensus was about kids and concerts.
My little girl is getting older. I want to be able to have as many firsts with her as I can before too many of my retinal cells kick the bucket. Taking her to London for the first time and taking her to her first music concert was a biggie for me. A core memory I wanted to make and share with her. I love music and going to see my favourite artists live has always been a huge part of who I am. Before accessibility issues come in or indeed force me to sit out – I wanted this…badly.
When I was pregnant, there were so many things I thought I would get to do with my daughter. Some I have achieved. Some I have already had to let go of and looking into the future, I try not to dwell on. Right now I can do this. Waiting until a later date or when some nobody online, recommends is more age appropriate, is not a luxury I have. I want my daughter to know who I used to be and who I still am now, not who I have made my peace with.
The big day came and we all got glammed up to go. It was going to be a 14 – 16 hour day so we went for cute but comfortable.
Once in Waterloo, we went to see the London Eye and Big Ben. My daughter had been asking for weeks leading up to the event to see those things so we made it happen. There was live music and a carousel whirling around on the South Bank and people were just dancing right there in the street – it was such a vibe. Watching my daughter drink it all in was fabulous. After something to eat we headed to the stadium. It was a couple of tubes and a long walk but so worth it. I never let go of her hand the whole time. I was on mum duty so super alert but also in my element and so ready to attend my first concert in what seemed like forever.
Once we took our seats in the venue, the magnitude of the event dawned on us both. The sea of people pouring into the stadium was magnificent, more people than I had been in the company of since before the pandemic.
GAYLE and The Script were the support acts and then Pink took to the stage. My daughter was not the youngest there but it was close. Watching her dance, sing and scream as the spectacle unfolded was epic. I had done the right thing. This moment was so important to me and to share my love of music with her, while I was still fully able, felt like taking a piece of myself back from the abyss. We definately danced like no one was watching.
Many years ago when I sat opposite a blind minister and spoke candidly about the reality of living with a degenerative disease, he shared a wonderful analogy. He likened our predicament to a bag of jewels. When we are born we are given a bag of jewels, this contains all our hopes and dreams that we hold on to tightly. When you are in that big white room, where your diagnosis and new reality pull the rug out from under your life, it feels like that bag of jewels has been snatched away. As humans we keep pushing through. Living our life. Taking it day by day and then without thinking, you find yourself; on that beautiful holiday with your family, watching your child’s first steps, catching that magnificent sunset, eating that incredible meal, meeting that old friend and laughing so much you lose your breath or at that concert, singing at the top of your lungs with your child, as fireworks fill the air and you feel more alive then you have done in years.
In that moment, you are doing something you never thought you would ever be able to. These moments, the minister said, was God. He had been able to rescue one of your jewels, one of your hopes and dreams and give it back to you.
I think about that story a lot, as I walk my path with RP and even if you don’t believe in God, it’s quite a beautiful thought. The moment you never believed you’d see or ever get to experience – you are.
After the concert, it was dark and very crowded. I was in full protection mode and so focused on my daughters safety. Thousands of fans spilled out onto the streets and began pouring on to waiting buses and tubes. I held her tight and as our group gradually found each other, we shared chocolates and giggles all the way to the tube. Walking through Waterloo at midnight meant that the pubs had also kicked out too but I needn’t have worried. Everyone we saw, inebriated or sober, was in fine form and so kind to my daughter as they celebrated her first concert too. Telling her how beautiful she was and hoping that she had enjoyed herself.
“Mummy, everyone here is so happy and nice to me!” my daughter exclaimed. Yes indeed my darling they are happy, nice and a litle tipsy too!
Finally on the train home, then in my friend’s car for the last leg of the journey, my angel fell asleep. Back at home, safe in her bed she continued to sleep. I was still buzzing and talking my poor husband’s ear off until 3am. All that energy and adrenaline clearly had not left yet.
Finally in bed, my heart was full of gratitude and I soon dosed off. We had got there and back safely, we had a wonderful time but most importantly, I had been given back a jewel that I honestly thought I would never see shine. My wish of taking my daughter to her first music concert had come true. Not only was I there but I led the way, I protected her, without any need of assistance. I did that! Needing help is nothing to be ashamed of but being able to handle our big adventure solo felt fantastic.
Being a parent boils down to two main jobs, showing up to provide and protecting your child from harm. As a parent losing their sight, the very essence of being a parent hangs precariously on the edge of a cliff. Hanging on to nothing but prayer. The unknown. When will it happen? When will I have to step aside for safety reasons? When will I have to watch some else do what I once could?
Not today!