FULLY in the ” then they stay Dead” phase of this. The time when I know he is not coming back ever. And wondering what it was we were talking about and doing one year ago.
Today, I did some odd little pottering around. Its not easy to regain an interest in the small doings of life when its been trashed 3 times in less than a year. But today I was able potter. To dust things and straighten up bits and pieces that were out of place.
I stayed in all day and slept a good deal as I do. And just now and then – I wondered what we were doing a year ago. I know he had just retired and that we were making plans. We were going to go South and take care of Madeline while Mad O;Brian worked in the school holidays and he was hoping to get his Girls to go to Victoria with him and see where their family had come from. I didn’t think there was much chance of organising that one but the planning was underway. We were going to go to South Australia and he would show me the WOMAD and the places I have never seen.
It would not have mattered whether or not we got there. We enjoyed the planning. iT has mattered to me that we no longer have Plans.
Its still close enough to his dying, that I think in terms of we and of how he would have liked it here. We could have walked to the end of the footbridge and taken breakfast at Pomegranate.
Nonetheless, I have been able to potter and enjoy the small things. The heater that he bought that last month and the mattress.The game of soccer on the Ovals and the sunset over the lagoon.
I had a Cornish Pastie and bread and butter pudding from the Cafe for dinner and I have Ebor Water, I keep the best of both of us and move into the even better of me.
Now I have bought 2 books on Kindle . Thrillers recommended to me by my son. I tried reading a classic piece of Booker Prize lit last night but it looks like I remain a trash thriller reader. These are wonderful days when I can order books and they land on my reading machine within seconds. At the same time, my Kids 1000kms away are sitting with me while they go about their Saturday night and I go about mine.
OK then. I am close to the 12th month since his death. I shall do some thinking about how I am intending to do that time. Loosely. And at the end of it I am booked to fly South.
12 months of deep mourning. 12 months of metaphorically wearing sackcloth and ashes. There were reasons for these traditions. 12 months of calling OCHA. 12 months that saved me from choosing a new love foolishly. 12 months of huddling and hurting. 12 months of healing and shock.
Here comes the last month.
Nicci once said:
the first year it is in top of you
the second year it walks beside you
and the third year – if you are lucky – it walks a little behind you.
Maybe today, I began to feel It walking a little beside me instead of like an incubus on my back. Just for parts of the day the load was lighter.
Flo’s saying about the madness of Alcoholism was :
The Madness kicks up a fury as it begins to leave – keep backing it out the door.
The SilverBird Part 2 