hayfever

Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.

This last week has seemed so matter-of-fact that it’s been almost surreal. 

There’s been bank statements to rifle through, unexpected loans to discover, worries about how a non-driver [my MiL] will cope living in a tiny village with no shop and no bus route to speak of, considerations of a car that needs selling and a caravan that needs staying in, vicars to meet and sympathy cards to wade through …

I’ve been spared most of it.  My life has continued in as near normal a way as possible.  There’s a part of me who feels like an outsider stepping on toes and getting in the way, although I do know that I’m not.  I don’t know how they truly feel because I’ve never had to suffer the anguish of losing someone in my immediate family.  I only know how sad I am and how much I shall miss him, and that can’t begin to compare with how they feel.  Even with the close family members whom I have lost it hasn’t been the same.  My three grandparents all reached the age of ninety and both my aunts suffered from cancer – all those deaths were expected for many weeks, if not months, before they occurred.  That’s not to say that they were any less painful, but they were different. 

I think that it’s finally beginning to sink in that he won’t be sitting in his chair, watching his Grand Prix, letting us borrow maps from where he worked [which he wasn’t supposed to do, no sir], for me at least.  He won’t get to watch his new ‘Allo ‘Allo! DVDs, enjoy lunch at The Ritz [a Christmas present from my BiL] or watch the cars whizz by at Silverstone [his sixtieth birthday present from all of us] this year. 

This week we have the funeral to get through, and that will be tough.  And [if you’ll excuse the awful pun] that will be the final nail in the coffin.  Once that is over it’s do or die, sink or swim … there’s a finality there that doesn’t bear thinking about even though it’s natural.  Life has to go on. 

That saddens me … that life continues on.  The world continues spinning and people go about their daily business.  That even those affected by death still need to eat, drink and sleep.  That we can still laugh and find happiness even at a time when we should be feeling miserable.  But I suspect that’s natural.  Survival instincts.  Without those instincts the human race would have died out long ago. 

But it’s still sad.

[in other news, i’m pissed off with something that’s happened at work, i feel absolutely drained, i finally have ‘proper’ hayfever (after many years where it was simply ‘pretend’ hayfever), i desperately need to sort out the cupboard under the stairs and i also need to look after my blokey, and why-oh-why were the manics on some dodgy political type but let’s talk about anything sunday morning show?  oh, and who will do the tiling now?]

please God bless the family as they get through this coming week xxx Elsabeth