We have some really nice postmen who work our mail route. Even down to our third reserve postie who is equally nice and conscientious. So rather than just post an unusual letter he knocked at the door.
“Sorry to bother you but I don’t recognise the name on this letter addressed to you”
After a quick scan I confirmed the letter was correctly addressed to us. You see this postie only occasionally covers our village and probably only for the last couple of years. He has no idea, nor should he. We often think the world stops when someone dies and grief hits. But you quickly realise that the wider world keeps spinning. Only you and maybe a handful of others experience a shuddering world halt. When finally your world does starts spinning again there is no guarantee that it will get back up to the speed of the wider world. Until the speeds harmonise you feel out of synch. Not quite part of this world anymore. For me everything seems to happen in slow motion while outside of my bubble the world flies by. Sometimes I drift into social settings and no one seems to see me. They certainly don’t see the grief baggage that I am am shouldering. My chains. When I do reach out to make contact with the outside world again I often fail. As if I just can’t grasp it anymore. Part of the world yet removed from it. Maybe this is what a ghost feels like.
So when a letter arrives addressed to my partner and only two people blink. An efficient but blissfully unaware postman and me. You realise then that grief is deeply personal. Incredibly localised. All this from one of those letters. A random invite to a furniture sale. A mass produced advert. But the computer generated name on the front of the envelope changes everything. It reminds me of what I have become. Someone going through a process. Transitioning. Currently in the ghost stage.
It must be very distressing!
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It’s ok.
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👍
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Not a very nice shock to the system☹
You’re in ghost mode, I’m in zombie mode due to a 1:00am bounce😫
It’s my fault that I didnt go to sleep until midnight. Thank goodness the glorious little yellow school bus arrives at 7:30… only 5 hours to go😭
Life… it’s a trip!
💌💌
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Oh I sorry. Really hope you get a few more hours tonight. xx
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You know …I bet if you had said to him, he’d have seen to it that he didn’t deliver that letter. Not if it’s a spew out.
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They would if I ask but that runs the risk of missing an important one. I always got K a Save the Whale sponsorship for Xmas. Still keep it going so that letter with this years whale photo is definitely allowed.
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Yeah it only works if you don’t look for a certain letter to come.
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They slowly dwindle over time.
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This reminds me of those blogging friends who have died, yet still smile out from older posts – not the same, I know, but makes us blink all the same.
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No that’s very true Sir.
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That must be very hard. Thinking of you
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Thank you Robyn.
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Hugs
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Thanks
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🤓💜
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🙏
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The smallest things can cause the biggest reminders. So hard.
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They really can.
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It’s a hit alright, those unsuspecting queries pertaining to the one we have lost. For many years, I used to fear and dread them. I don’t anymore, but when someone who doesn’t know asks, I clench up and can never seem to settle into any answer.
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Yes I know that clench up feel so well.
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Although it sounds painful, you did an amazing job of putting your feelings into words here. Grief is complicated. Tend to your heart. Thank you for this.
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Thank you so much
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Bloody databases. After my Dad died, Mum was inundated for months with junk mail and circulars. Even sending things back RTS didn’t work.
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No took 18 months and so many phone calls to just stop BT sending them
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It makes you angry doesn’t it.
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It really does
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We received mail for my grandfather for at least a few years after he died probably. It is weird.
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It’s when new companies send stuff which puzzles me
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More like the big bad world reminding you they don’t care about people, all they want is your money…
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That’s sadly true
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Yes, that would have me taking a step back or two. Something you do not get used to. 😔
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It’s the surprise factor
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Yrs it sadly is..😒
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A punch in the gut, for sure, at least that is how I have experienced similar situation after the death of a loved one. God bless you.
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Thank you so much
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Always you are welcome my dear
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Oh dear, that must have been shocking to you. My grandfather (Pa) died nearly 10 years ago now, sometimes I still smell his smell, and it does just take you out of it for a bit. Oh my goodness, what happened to Canada while I was asleep?!
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Joined in on the madness. I guess it’s harder when you can’t remember a smell or a voice or an image. But the shock factor does take it out of you. x
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It’s very distressing. (We still get mail for Jim’s mum, dad, and sister.)
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That’s bad.
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You’re probably over the sensation, but it makes me want to call the companies every time. One time I told a phone solicitor, “No, they’re dead!” – poor guy; wasn’t his fault.
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No the people you speak to are just working for the crappy company. It’s that you have to phone up repeatedly.
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I know. Just cogs.
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I dream of being a cog.
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There is no real answer… No right or wrong. The postman felt it was his duty to enquire for some reason or other, and you responded in the best way you could at the time.
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Absolutely
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