Back online

It was rather odd to be offline for a week and a half. I had a tiny notepad to work on and it was having a few problems and broadband access was horribly expensive, so I cut down on my computing time massively.

DD and I spent quite a bit of time in the hotel pool. She still can’t get the hang of lying on her back, floating. Massive trust and belief problems, I think.

DD just watched an episode of 3rd and Bird, the one where the baby kitten is lost and the birds help the kitten. DD has seen that one before. I wasn’t expecting her reaction this time, though.

She came into my study, tears streaming down her face. “Mummy, I miss our two kitties. I want them back!” These are the two cats that died last year. She hasn’t really mentioned them for months but obviously something about that episode brought them to mind. Poor love, she took a while to calm down. We had a long talk, including me explaining that I couldn’t dig up the cats’ bodies from the garden because their spirits were gone.

I’m feeling a bit blue now. I was OK for a while.

 

Nearly a year now

It’s been nearly a year since DH died. Part of me is amazed that so much time has passed and I haven’t arranged with the foundary for a memorial for his ashes. Nor have I cleared up the house from the extraordinary amount of clutter.

The other part of me is (forgive me) relieved that it is nearly a year. For some reason, I was thinking “If I can get through a year, then I might be OK.” Who knows whether I will or not? Hope has been the only thing propelling me some days. My faith has been wobbly, contentious, vague, and argumentative and I have given myself permission to tear a strip off so-called Christian people who give me crap about ‘Trust in the Lord’, rubbish about perfect love and all things working to God’s purpose, and how God sees time. Y’know, if that’s the best you can offer someone, just shut up. Just shut up. Nobody wants to hear that. Not even a year on from someone’s death. I have been let down by people who think they are God’s representatives on earth because the only way they want to help is by prayer because (God help them) practical help may actually require that they be uncomfortable or give up some free time or think about another person in a real, concrete way.

Good things? Well, some of my friends who are not Christians have been the greatest comfort and help in the past year. Their kindness and love has known no bounds. They have accepted me as an imperfect person they still love. Some Christian friends have been loving and have helped me in dark times.

Here is an article on “The way we grieve now” by Piper Weiss. I disagree with Claire Bidwell Smith who says:

once you share your coping rituals, however odd they may feel, you’ll find you’re not alone and not crazy at all. Then, you can start moving forward.

Um, what? I don’t think “SHARE” is the word. “Admit to self” perhaps. But honestly, I don’t want to hear about others’ coping mechanisms and they may not wish to share it. Far more important to work it out with oneself and see it for what it is. That’s all.

 

Too quiet

That’s why I’m not enjoying being home this afternoon. Yes, I’ll have to get over it eventually but in the meantime, it is all too obvious that the Siamese Princess is no longer here.

I haven’t been pestered for another snack. There’s no cat hair on my duvet. There’s no yowling for this or that. There’s no purring at my feet while I type. No cat has got shut in a kitchen cupboard by accident. There aren’t any pawprints around the kitchen sink and the bread board.

In short, it’s quiet.

 

Dear Universe, Enough already!

That’s what I was thinking yesterday. I had to have my darling youngest cat put to sleep. The house is so empty, despite having two humans in it. Her noisy little snores, bouncy games, yowls and meows, bounces on the kitchen counters and garbage bin investigations are all missing.

 

When did it become June?

It’s the 2nd of June today. Where did 5 months of the year go to?

While I’m on these questions, maybe the universe will answer a few more.

Why does Austria put in crappy Eurovision entries?
Why haven’t I decluttered DH’s study yet?
Why did DH hide *my* stuff in boxes underneath many other boxes in his study?
Why are Raymond Feist’s books so boring and long?
Why have I been pathetic in contacting a couple of friends, even by phone? And am I becoming frightened of the phone again?
Why can’t I get my crap together re bundling telephone and internet services? Am I frightened of the too-difficult-to-understand plans?
Why is my diet failing?
Who is whispering to my big boss that I probably should work fewer hours?
Who have I pissed off recently? Or in the past?
Where do my reserves of patience come from? And can I get a bit extra to deal with DD?

DD is having a rough time. OK, it isn’t unexpected but I find it hard to deal with occasionally because I am not sleeping well myself. Having a small person wake up hollering or crying because she’s lost her bedsock or a favourite stuffed toy in bed is enough to completely mess up my sleeping pattern. Last night I got six hours of sleep – SIX! Count them! That totally pwns the 3 hours the previous night.

I still don’t have a social life. (If you’re one of those horrible people who think a widow should sit home every night and do worthy crafts or read spiritual books, kindly bugger off right now.) No choir. No movies. No dinners out. I want to remember who I was as an adult rather than simply mother-and-hard-worker. Yeah, I’m hoping for too much. Better off shutting my mouth now and fading into the background.

 

More sadness

My father-in-law died last Friday.

DD has misbehaved since I told her the news. Poor dear, this is such a hard thing for her to deal with. This afternoon was the first time she was back to being her normal self (long may that continue). No magic words, no instant fix, just hard slog for us all.

 

Mother’s Day

If someone asks me why I haven’t updated this blog for a while, this is my answer: “Woof! Woof!” Gotta love that asthma bark. Poor DD has it as well and thanks to her barking at night, I have had poor sleep for quite a few nights over the past week. That sleep deprivation carries on to other arenas: I’m less resilient to a number of things (including stress), I may not notice every fine detail like I usually do, and my temper gets pretty short.

Yesterday, Mother’s Day, could well have been renamed “Mom Fail Day” because that’s what it was for me. DD was a pill, and who knows how much the asthma had to do with it. She woke me early, sassed me, refused to help me and more. The behaviour continued at church and then there was the long drive for a family lunch after that. My personal, grieving meltdown in my parked car was most unattractive and I wish that DD had never seen that. She sure looked surprised, not to mention relieved when I finished.

Even today I feel like crap. Everything is too hard. I honestly didn’t think Mother’s Day would be so difficult. After all, DH usually forgot it and he didn’t see any particular reason to get me a present or a card to start with. Honestly, all I wanted was a day off, no cooking, no responsibilities, not even a special lunch or dinner or a piece of jewellery.

Bah. I hope you had a better day.

 

The side effects of decluttering

Y’know, I thought I was doing well, clearing up DH’s things. Maybe I was over-optimistic.

This morning as I was in the go slow lane, caused by Canberrans being pathologically incapable of merging two lanes into one without carrying on like twits, there was a sight that made my heart pang. The middle-aged bloke in the Barina had his dark-blond hair at the same length as DH’s, just touching his crisp, white business shirt. Same pale, soft skin, same shape of his head. For that moment, and now as I type this, I missed DH immensely and wished, oh so hard, that I could undo the past 6 months and we could have a do-over.