SIX MONTHS LATER.
I feel as if I’m functioning on two levels. On the surface I continue as normal. Going about my busy life, laughing, talking, being a grandma, being a friend. Singing in the choir, going away for the weekend.
But buried deep, deep within me is a terrible sadness which occasionally bubbles to the surface like a simmering volcano, when moved by a song or a sudden memory or something on TV. But it quickly hides itself again because, just yet, it’s too much, it would overwhelm me, take over, paralyse me and I’m not ready yet.
Other widows contact me and no words need to be spoken because there is no way this grief, this loss can be expressed….but they know.
So I guess I AM dancing.
I’m doing my best.
Loosing someone to death reminds you of your own mortality and I’m conscious of every precious moment. I don’t have time to sit and grieve, I don’t have time to waste.
I thought about a ” bucket list”. What do I REALLY want to do? But I couldn’t come up with anything more than spend time with people I love.
My daughter took me to Paris. It’s something I’d always wanted to do with her, but she would never leave her boys. Now they are older and there’s someone to leave them with she took me as a Christmas present.
I was nervous about her reaction. She’s not interested in history, art or architecture, doesn’t like shopping or food. But in the event we had a ball. She thought the food was ” awesome”. Loved a ride on the river. Loved the croissant’s and just the quaintness of it all. I even got her to a jazz club ( cafe Universel) and she had a good night.
The eccentricities of the locals frightened her a bit at first. But I said ” they are just French”
So the days pass, filled with all sorts of activities. Hopefully towards a time when I can cry and also to a time when I won’t notice Michael isn’t here so much. Strangely I feel his presence in the apartment all the time , maybe this is just a coping strategy for the mind to cope with the awfulness of death, or maybe he’s really haunting me!
I found it was very important for me to spread is ashes, a kind of ritualistic letting go. And there were so much of them , five and a half kilos….thats a lot of ash!
I have been to various racecourses and fittingly ( and illegally!) left about half a kilo at each place. I’ve happy memories of these places. And on our wedding anniversary I went to the beach at St Anne’s to scatter the remainder. It was an awful wet cold day but as I pulled up in the car the rain stopped and the sun came out.
It was very windy though and despite facing away from the wind, I still got covered in grey dust, which I didn’t realise till after I’d been to our favourite beach side cafe and had lunch!😨