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Rainbows

Who doesn’t love a rainbow. My partner adored them. They remind me of happy memories. But they also show me that life goes on. A rainbow doesn’t last for long. But if you are patient, then another will eventually appear.

Life goes on. After you lose someone special, you do forget this. There is always rebirth. That took me a long time to figure that out. For months death marked the end. That’s the frustration. If it’s the end, why is the world still spinning.

Maybe a better way to look at it for me is that death actually marks a boundary. A demarcation between two life’s. That way life does seem to go on. That’s how the world keeps spinning. That makes more sense to me.

So now I look back and see my partners death slightly differently. Her death marks a boundary. The ending of our life together. As the boundary is crossed, no more joint memories can be created. She has left this world. But here’s the key. She left the world a better place than she found it. She did her bit to enrich the people she encountered. That’s a sign of a life well lived. Surely that’s what we all should be hoping to achieve. When she left. She left her little part of this world, a better place. Filled with many memories. Some memories make you smile. Some bring a tear. But these are all memories to be treasured.

So my partners death did mark a boundary. I crossed that boundary. I brought those memories with me. On the other side of the boundary my life changed. Full time parent, tidying up the outstanding issues from the last life, treasuring the precious memories and starting to live again. Striving to leave this world a little better than I found it. Just like a beautiful rainbow.

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Running wild

Remember those times before 2020. No masks or enforced social distancing. It seems an awful long time ago. So much enforced change. A world which has shrunk for virtually all of us.

After my partner died the world did shrink for me. No more holidays, no long distance work journeys, less visits to family and friends. No climbing expeditions. Things like trips to the gym even stopped. One thing that kept going was running. Son would go to school and my new found work flexibility would allow a couple of long runs every week. I got to see and breathe the local countryside. Run through the hills, valleys and woods. Every so often a little longer trip to the coast. The delights of a beach run. These became such an important part of my coping strategy. A way to manage my mental health and stay fit.

These runs have now stopped. The last run was in early March. Still there but out of reach. Out of reach until September when the secondary schools potentially go back. Maybe Son will opt for homeschooling and the runs cease permanently. But life goes on. It has to. So the runs have had to be replaced with exercise bike sessions – I have developed a pathological hatred of the piece of rock called the bike seat. Replaced with extra weights exercise in the garden. More CrossFit workouts. And yes with garden runs. A small garden doesn’t lend itself to a great variety of routes. Basically I can keep going round in circles clockwise and anti-clockwise. Constantly going round in circles. I measured it out, the longest straight line run possible is a massive 15 paces. Round and round again.

“Dad school have set a running challenge this week. They want the class to run and cycle. Using the Strava running app they want us all to work together to get to ferry in Dover and head off into Europe. Parents are encouraged to join in. Come on Dad. Get your running kit on.”

It’s a bit like my blogs creaky world tour but recorded using Strava. So I downloaded the app and dragged my tired body outside. I had already done my morning weights exercise routine. And off I went. Round and round the garden. Clocking up km after km. Bored out of my mind. Son did a bit of running himself before he went inside to start his next online class.

Eventually the knees said that’s enough. They can only take so much constant turning. And I went inside to send school the running results. The thing about Strava (and other running apps) is that you get a route diagram. A map of your run. They should look something like this…..

Well mine was a masterpiece. It’s my finest work of art I have ever produced….

The final ironic element to the story. A couple of hours later…

“Oh Dad. Just had an email from school. You had better sit down…. Apparently a few parents have complained about privacy and the schools online Strava Running Club. So they have had to delete the club and cancel the running challenge.”

Oh well at least I got a work of art out of it.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 102 Comments

Garden photobomb

Somebody likes to photobomb any picture. This one is quite apt as he spends most of his time here. Digging stuff up, burying things and helping himself to any unfortunate vegetables which decide to grow here.

Yes I know it’s hardly Kew Gardens. I bet Kew doesn’t have as fine a collection of weed samples that we have… Maybe that could be our specialty. Our route to fame and fortune. Time to hug those weeds (all except those pesky nettles). And I bet Kew hasn’t had a banging crop like we have had so far this year. I don’t want to brag but so far we have had 2 radishes, 3 tiny leaves of spinach and one deformed spring onion. Eat your heart our Kew….

“Dad I’ve not a new school project to do. Take some photos of things your mum or dad or family are good at. Mum was good at so many things. Where do we start with you…”

I take that cheeky grin and that knowing look as an indication that either you are so impressed with the range of my talents or in fact you think that I am a complete muppet at everything.

“Ok Miss Piggy any ideas what I could use as examples of your talent?”

The garden

“Really. Our neighbours have perfect gardens and we have lots of weeds.”

What about cooking

“Dad your shortcrust pie last night was stronger and tougher than Captain America’s Shield. “

Hairdressing

“Have you seen my hair…”

Ok my sewing, remember that knee patch I put on your trousers

“At one stage you sewed your finger onto the trousers. When you got the patch finally on you managed to sew through to the back of the leg as well. You suddenly made the trouser leg only one foot long.”

That was a classic. I’m good at DIY. I put your shelf up.

“It fell off the wall two hours later.”

But while it was on the wall it was perfectly level.

“You know what Dad I have thought of a family talent. I’m off to photograph the gerbils shred a cardboard box.”

So with another humiliation to add to my growing repertoire let’s get back to the photo. The pink rose next to the wall is so special to us. It came from a small cutting which came from my partners childhood garden. It’s a precious link with the past. Yes it’s getting on quite a bit now. Aren’t we all. I only wish I was still looking as good as this rose. To look that good after all those years is some talent.

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No Rose Show yet

No jokes today. No script. Let’s just see where this takes me.

It’s the very early hours. It’s my partners birthday. Once I’ve finished I will close the iPad for today and hopefully I will see you tomorrow.

These are strange times for all of us. But to be fair it’s been a strange time for our little family since 2016. That’s the year the world stopped and changed for us forever. Those six weeks from hell. We lost my mum and our Son’s beloved little nan on the first day of that period. That day started as a fun birthday for me and finished in heartache. Almost straight after the funeral my partner wasn’t feeling great and went into hospital overnight for routine tests. The next day having come to pick her up, I was taken to one side by the Doctor to tell me that things where bleak. She only had a 5% chance of surviving the month. Zero chance of making it to Christmas. She was deteriorating rapidly and she wasn’t really conscious. The following conversation with an 8 year old will haunt me forever.

She never fully regained consciousness. We had no more conversations. I can’t even remember the last one we had. Three weeks later I was telling the 8 year old his mum was dead. 2016 and those six weeks from hell.

This day in 2016 I had just given my partner a plant, a Yorkshire White Rose. She had always wanted one. I wish I had bought it so many years earlier so she could have enjoyed it. Since then it has always bloomed in time for her birthday. Not this year. The bad winter has set things back. It’s a few weeks behind schedule. But it will get there. It’s a hardy soul. It feels like one of the few life bridges which didn’t break in 2016. A link to a world now gone but certainly not forgotten.

So now I will focus on our Son. Yes there might be a few tears but hopefully if I do my job right then there will also be smiles. Let’s be thankful for those wonderful times. Let’s remember those other times when the world changed. Changed for the better. Our first date. Our first night in the new house. Finding out those pregnancy results. Holding our baby. Our first family family holiday.

Wonderful, loving times.

So that’s it. Take care and remember that this is still a wonderful world. No more words today. See you tomorrow.

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The forecast

The weather forecast is saying it’s clear blue sky and no rain today.

The clouds and the showers would beg to differ.

Another inaccurate weather forecast. It’s clearly the forecasters fault that it’s raining …. It always is. I remember going to a Test Match (Cricket) between England and India. It had been a good weather forecast. But it was chucking it down and play was suspended. With perfect timing the main TV weatherman came onto the pitch to do a weather forecast. I’ve never heard anyone get so many boo’s. It was his fault that it was raining.

To be honest we get many incorrect predictions. Leaders saying a pandemic will just go away. Those pension salespeople saying that you will be able to retire at 50. Being told that Betamax and V2000 would be the best video recording formats. No one would be daft enough to vote for Trump or Boris. My Dad saying Status Quo wouldn’t last as they can’t sing or play. Brexit was easy and could be sorted in days. The Sinclair C5 was the vehicle of the future…..

Basically life is to unpredictable. You just never know what will happen. What’s round the corner.

I know this all too well. One day your talking about the next family trip to Switzerland. Discussing trying for a second child or adopting. Then 3 weeks later I’m leaving the crematorium with my partners ashes. A broken single parent. That wasn’t in the forecast or the plans.

We often learn this lesson far too late. I did. Don’t assume there will be a tomorrow. Remember to hug those you love today. Start ticking off those bucket list items, right now. If something special to you is broken, then try and fix it today. Today, speak to those you care for. Make sure you live today.

Lecture over…. And yes it’s still raining here. I blame it on the weather forecaster.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 87 Comments

Get my head round

The sun is shining. It’s still cold but we will settle for this.

So it’s almost official. School has emailed parents to say that looking at the latest government guidance – which apparently isn’t much – only some Primary pupils and those sitting final exams next year will get any direct teaching over the next few months. The earliest Son will be back in school is going to be September. So it’s time to get our heads round this.

Looking at the government’s plan for the economy – doesn’t take long as it’s basically wrote on the back of the PMs hand – probably means the company I work for won’t be operating anytime before September. That’s being extremely optimistic and requires an awful lot of good fortune. Being realistic there is a high probability it will not survive. So it’s time to get our heads round this.

It’s also time to get my head round the likelihood that I won’t be seeing my brother and sisters much in 2020. If things improve then maybe visits at Christmas might be a possibility. Realistically meet ups are not happening anytime this side of September. Already one Government official has said Summer family holidays and meet ups are cancelled, as these are unsafe – but apparently getting on a packed bus and going to work is completely safe.

AND WE HAVE TO GET OUR HEADS ROUND TWO EVEN MORE PRESSING MATTERS.

  • How are we going to celebrate my partners birthday in just over a weeks time. We had been planning on doing a camp fire party. Unfortunately the fire pit didn’t survive the Yorkshire winter. Yesterday I tried to pick it up to clean and the metal just crumbled, leaving me holding just two wooden handles. At least they can be used as fire wood. The other idea was to have my partners favourite meal – Chinese. Unfortunately the local takeaways are still closed and the local supermarket is completely sold out of Chinese food – apart from crispy seaweed. Which brought the response “well the gerbils will eat well then….”. I did offer to cook Chinese from scratch, but that brought the response “I’d rather suck on a gooseberry….”. So we are in plan F territory.
  • “Dad I am so missing not going on my trampoline.” A couple of months back our garden pigeons decided to nest right next to the big bouncy thing (thats not my tummy before you say anything….). When I say right next to, I mean within 10 centimetres (not using inches will really upset Boris). Well the pigeons and chicks are showing no sign of moving, so I have two options. One is to dismantle and then rebuild somewhere else. Problem is that it’s in the only flat part of the garden and it’s like trying to assemble a Super Tanker. The instructions helpfully explained that you will need three reasonably fit adults to assemble. They failed to mention at least one of those adults must be an expert in structural engineering and the other two will need to have the strength of The Hulk. The other option is to try and drag the complete trampoline. We tried yesterday and after 30 minutes had shifted it 1 cm (up yours Boris). So we are also on Plan F here as well.

But at least the sun is shining.

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New Style

Some objects look spectacular and then you have me……

“Dad the lockdown means that it doesn’t matter what you look like. We have seen one person in 7 weeks. No one is going to see you. Which in your case today is a real bonus.”

Last night was spent listening to songs from the Stranglers and Bad Company. On Tuesday the music world lost Dave Greenfield the brilliant Stranglers keyboard player to this dreadful virus. Only a few months back we had seen him so full of life and at the height of his form playing in Leeds.

Then yesterday Brian Howe the wonderful Bad Company vocalist was lost to a heart attack. I only got the chance to see him once. A night I will never forget. It was the night my dad died. So yes I listened to some music. Music with mixed emotions. But thankfully most of my thoughts stayed on legacy. Focusing on what those two fine musicians had contributed to my musical journey.

As we all know – life has to go on. The world keeps turning. Got to keep listening to the music. Often music and life are intertwined.

So why was I looking so beautiful this morning, so deserving of that comment from our Son. I had been sneakily trying to regrow my beard. Hoping Son wouldn’t notice. Well it was spotted and I was ordered to shave. I did a beautiful job shaving the left side of my face. Then abruptly the electric razor stopped working. It went bang. So now I’m left with half a beard and half a moustache until a new shaver arrives on Monday. Strangely I can’t remember that look ever catching on.

“Well if someone comes to the door you will just have to stand side on Dad. You can decide if you go for the beard look or the shaved look. It’s your call. You could even try and confuse them. Every time they look away, turn to the other side.”

Never thought I would be such a trend setter….

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Friendships

Pesky school played that trick on me again. Son is all set up for the next school at home lesson. THEN at the start of the lesson the teacher asks for work to be done which requires a plasticine model to be made. As we don’t have a fully functioning stationary and supplies cupboard, an urgent search of draws and boxes took place. Eventually a large ball of old Blu Tack was found. That will just have to do.

But in one of the boxes we searched was another find. A much more rewarding discovery. A laminated photo of our Son from his time at nursery. It was used as a name badge for his coat peg. I had completely forgotten about this. Suddenly all the memories start to flood back.

How things have changed….

Looking back at nursery he had about 10 really close friends. Friends he would spend so much time with. Over time families moved, kids went to separate schools and friendships faded. Currently only one of the nursery gang go to his school but they are in different sets. Even that friendship has grown apart. They will still wave and smile if they bump into each other but that is it.

It’s the same for the parents. Each one of those nursery friendships yielded a parenting bond. Family meet ups, barbecues, day trips out and close adult friendships. Those are now gone as well. Even with the one nursery girl still at his school, we have grown apart. Not spoken to the parents in two years. Just a few years back I would go cycling with the Dad and went running each week with the mum. Now it’s down to the occasional wave as we pass each other on a car journey.

Now looking at this old photo I am reminded of old friendships. Friendships which have been lost just like that photo was in an old box. It’s a reminder that the world moves on. Things change. Sometimes change goes against your well thought out plans and sadly sometimes change is not always for the better.

But then you look at that cheeky face in the photo and it’s impossible to be too downhearted for long.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 66 Comments

Judging yourself through your grief

I am so thrilled that Katie and Evee have been so kind enough to write another post for me. I know from all the comments that the last one they penned was so loved. Please checkout their blog (The Grief Reality), it’s such a wonderful source of love, human spirit and hope. You might also come across another post from me there today as well.

I know how tough this post would have been to write for them. I have been feeling similar emotions about my Partner as well. They set these out so beautifully.

*******************************************************************

Mum was always so protective of her daughters. If we came home from school crying about being bullied, she’d be straight on the phone to the headteacher even if we begged her to just forget it. She said her fierce protection was something we’d only understand when we became mothers ourselves – perhaps that is true. 

 

However, as time went on and we understood our mum’s growing fragility, we too stepped into a more protective role, that perhaps only children in our position would understand – we don’t know for sure. Eventually, simple things such as birthday parties became hazardous as they opened the risk of Mum becoming neutropenic with her compromised immune system. 

 

We miss our mum every single day and there is so much we have not been able to share with her over the last 18 months. Yet, with the current world events that are unravelling, quietly, we have both admitted to thinking “Thank goodness Mummy isn’t here to see this”. For the pair of us, this thought hasimmediately been silenced by shock, guilt and self-judgement: “I can’t believe I just thought that”. And it took a while for both of us to open up to one another to talk about this guilt. We were afraid to voice this utterly shocking feeling; about someone you physically ache to see again.

 

The fact that we can miss someone so much, but not want them to be here to bear witness to all the wrong in the world, is an unexplainable feeling. When we were early on in our grief, we thought it unthinkable when a counsellor told us we will one day consider that our mum is ‘safe’.

 

Well, we guess we are finally there. Mum cannot be touched or hurt anymore; and she is more protected than we could ever make her. We “thank goodness” that our mum is safe now and she does not need to worry about delayed chemotherapy treatment due to Corona Virus, or what we’d do if she needs to go into hospital. 

 

It is a conflicting emotion for us as this fear no longer lingersabove us. Yet, we still cry for the families who are living through it. 

 

Underneath everything, we know, no matter how far we come, all we will ever want is a cuddle from our mum, to be told this will all pass, and we will be okay. Isn’t that all anyone ever wants?

 

Go gently, 

 

Katie & Evee

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 78 Comments

The need for travel

Last night we were watching the new Sonic the Hedgehog movie. Yes we really do like to stretch our cultural boundaries. A couple of times during the movie I found myself thinking – wish I could visit that location. I’ve been doing that quite often recently. Can’t really blame the pesky virus completely for that. I was having those thoughts before the lockdown. Our Son’s world is naturally contracting. So mine is as well. The last time we spent more than one night away from our home was back in 2015. Sporadic day trips and the daily run partially helped fill my mind with some connection to the wider world.

So after Son had gone to bed I went in search of photos. Photos which would remind me of trips and holidays. Soon I was back in Northumberland with my partner. A week in a gypsy cottage.

Walking alongside Hadrians Wall and in the footsteps of Roman soldiers, almost 2000 years ago. Touching and drinking in ancient history.

Enjoying the open spaces. Hardly meeting another soul. Feeling that cold northern wind and walking on the soft moorland. Feeling no limits and letting the map decide the route.

Places like Northumberland have a unique atmosphere. A bleakness. An almost somber beauty.

And then a reminder of why I am so thankful for life.