Has it really been SEVEN years.
It’s exactly 7 years since we welcomed this little hooligan into our world.
For 2 months I hadn’t been functioning, I was a mess and seemingly unable to take control. It had just been over 2 months since we had buried Hawklad’s Mum.
But then in November I realised that the house needed more LIFE, more noise, rekindled fun. A mad puppy was the answer. And do you know what, it still is the single best parenting decision I have made.
How hard can it be to get a toffee apple right…
It’s beyond me. It has been beyond me since 2016. I’ve tried every November with varying degrees of incompetence. Before then his mum would get it right each year. That’s either making her own excellent ones or remembering to buy them before they sell out. I’m still waiting after 7 years to achieve either of these.
This used to bother me lots. Just how much of this parenting GIG I felt totally out of my depth in. Trying badly to do things his mum would seemingly do effortless.
But you just do the best you can. Just keep trying. Keep smiling at the many mistakes and think maybe next time it might improve.
‘Dad that’s your worst haircut ever, wow I look like a cross between Scooby Shaggy and Krusty the Clown.”
Yes it was a bad one. But on the bright side, when he popped into a Halloween Festival a few days later…
“That haircut looks like something perfect for a Halloween Scare Look. It’s not out of place here, I can take my hat off finally….”
When did his mum ever get a Halloween Hair Cut, THIS RIGHT.
That’s called building right next to the river….
It’s taken over SEVEN years but finally it was time to sort through paperwork. Mounds of it. Her papers had sat largely untouched in and on the desk she used for work and in a huge old wooden cabinet which sits next to the desk. A large, heavy, immovable and very hard cabinet that is also just close enough to the room door that it’s caused many a bruise to my toes and shins during those years. Prior to that, not so many bruises as this was her room and I hardly ventured in there.
Not enough room in this little bungalow to have an unused room anymore. So it was time….
I had always assumed this would be an emotionally draining experience but in the end it was an odd feeling. I really didn’t feel anything, it just kinda happened. Occasionally I came across a paper with a handwritten note saying ‘speak to xxxxx’, ‘need to look at’, ‘needs sorting’. She never did….. That was unnerving.
I did find a few things which I put to one side for Hawklad to keep. But the pile of papers to get rid of steadily grew into a mound, then a mountain. A mountain that a few days later became a fine garden bonfire.
One work note made me smile. Before we met romantically we worked for a while in the same public sector organisation. Given the amount of paper, she was a conscientious saver of all documents, even seemingly irrelevant work ones. I found a few policies that I had issued, WOW, even I didn’t keep or ever look at those. But one random work document had a simple handwritten note about ME. She had written that I WAS RESPONSIBLE….. That was it, nothing else. Does that mean that she was so impressed with me as shining, go getting manager that I was clearly a RESPONSIBLE person. Could it mean that I was responsible for an area or budget or decisions in something that she was interested in. Or could it mean that there had been a COCKUP and I had caused it. 😂😂😂😂
As I am no Poirot we shall never know. So in the fine traditions of Public Service, I made doubly sure that particular document was especially well incinerated. I’ve spent decades avoiding responsibility and I’m not going to start now.
The room is looking very different now. Space now found for my books, my records, my stuff. It’s starting to not feel like her room anymore. I certainly couldn’t have done this 7 years ago, but those rivers keep flowing and eventually life moves on.
Remoteness and Silence still exist in this mad old world.
I was watching an old Cary Grant, Loretta Young and David Niven movie. Definitely a different but really good variation on a Wonderful Life.
The Bishops Wife.
As the plot unfolded I noticed something about David Niven. He just looked so haunted, almost lost, in pain. Tragically his wife had died in an accident just a few months prior to filming leaving him completely broken. After the movie I listened to an interview where he talked about those months after the tragedy. Friends has been there for him including Clark Gable. But in his words, friends inevitably have to get on with their own life’s. When this happened he felt lost, surrounded by darkness, isolated, out of step with the world.
Looking back 7 years almost to the day and I so understand that feeling. The darkest times definitely for me were when friends moved on and suddenly the phone stopped ringing, no text messages, no cards, no knocks at the door.
Silence.
Thankfully I made it through the darkness but now I remind myself, when someone I know is going through loss, to never forget how that SILENCE felt to me. Even something as simple as a card, a text message, a phone call, or a coffee invite can make such a difference.
Break that Silence.
Surprisingly given the amount of rain, Yorkshire isn’t exactly overstocked on waterfalls. However over the last couple of weeks we have ventured to a couple of the local examples.
Not too shoddy at all.
There is one much bigger Falls just over an hours drive from us.
There is history there as well. It was the last place we visited as a family of three. After the world changed, going back seemed impossible. TWO could never be THREE. But now 7 years have passed. TWO still isn’t THREE, but now THREE is about memories, TWO is about living right now,
Maybe we will venture there this weekend for an adventure.
I think I hit new BRAIN FUDGED exam heights this afternoon. Just driven back from school and for about 10 seconds I was stood bemused next to the house front door. The locked front door. Why wouldn’t it open. I was repeatedly pressing the car remote door opening key.
D’oh.
Once I had finally opened the pesky front door with its traditional key, I found a letter from a rather large public utility company which had been privatised a few years decades back. Customers were told that this would significantly improve service levels and keep prices down….
We are still waiting for those particular benefits to arrive.
The letter was addressed to Hawklad’s Mum. Over the 6 plus years since the world changed, I have repeatedly tried to get them to change this. Apparently the main database has been changed but other databases not linked to the main one keep popping up. Clearly the privatised company can’t afford to link all its systems. Got to pay those Dividends…..
Well back to the letter. A few years back, seeing my partners name on the address would have wrecked me. Things have changed now. The grief journey moves further down the road. This time I focused on the text next to the address.
We know times are hard, we are here to help. We want to do all we can, so open the envelope to see what we can do for you…
Well for a start you could stop fleecing your customers with ridiculously sky high prices and monumentally poor service levels. You could also stop your Chief Executive getting millions in performance related bonuses.
I dealt with the letter in the appropriate manner. Throw it to the mad Cat and Dog, let them rip it to shreds.
But the key point is that I focused on the contents of the letter rather than on the name on the letter. I never thought I could ever do that but when the time is right, the journey starts to become just a bit less painful.
It’s still muddy.
In fact a bit more muddy.
Very tempting to 76 month old puppy.
76 MONTHS. This PUP was born in the week Hawklad’s mum passed away. Isn’t that a sobering thought. Why does 76 months sound so much longer than 6 and a bit years.
Stuff has changed in those 76 months, yet other stuff is still the same. Still walking these same muddy tracks. Still trying to figure out the parenting gig. Still trying to juggle things while still trying to pay the bills. Still spending far too much time having conversations with myself. Still not get enough sleep. Still fighting the school system. Still getting post addressed to Hawklad’s mum. Still getting those feelings of guilt. Still getting those pangs of anger. Still feeling like life is on hold.
But yes, some stuff changed. 74 months ago a Mad Pup walked in and that is just about the best decision I made in those 76 months.
Any excuse for a puppy pic….
Some more rain on the way.
You can never have enough MUD.
Those of a certain age like me think ‘Tiger Feet’ when MUD is mentioned.
Apparently our area is still under a DROUGHT order and we are banned from using hosepipes. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
How is it possible to lose stuff in a small bungalow. Only so many places to look and still things go missing. Maybe one day I might stumble across a goldmine of lost treasures. This time I was looking for some of mum’s cds. Now that would be a musical goldmine. Sinatra, Martin, Cash, Crosby, Davis Jnr. Where had I stored them in this small bungalow back in 2016. Absolutely no sign of them but I did come across my partners cd’s, quietly collecting dust in one hardly visited corner of this little old building. More music untouched since 2016.
Back 6 years ago those cd’s were far too painful to touch. Today I thumbed through them, without pain.
TIME heals.
With TIME things can change.
Going through these cd’s one thought kept crossing my mind. Wow she had some appalling tastes in music, well at least to an old headbanger like me. Yes there where one or two gems but wow, so much nameless dance club music. I had forgotten just how little our musical likes ever coincided.
With zero chance of most of these cds ever getting played, a decision was made to relocate them to the attic until I can get them to the charity shop.
CDs should be played and not just sit there collecting dust.
‘And not just sit there collecting dust’, thinking about it, you can apply those words to people as well. I should remember that.
,
Sometimes it sneaks up on you.
You think you have it cracked and then your nice clean shoes land in the muddiest of puddles.
I was shopping today and I came across a special offer on Jam Donuts. I immediately grabbed a box and thought ‘Mum will be pleased, shall I get her a second box”. Mum loved these and she most definitely loved a special offer. But then the realisation. She is not here anymore, she hasn’t been since 2016.
Definitely one of those unexpected muddy puddles.
Then another muddy puddle.
A few hours later I saw a trailer for ‘A Wonderful Life’, it was on the TV soon. I headed towards my mobile to phone mum. She loved that movie. Then the realisation. She isn’t here anymore.
Stepped in another muddy puddle.
Those muddy puddles seem muddiest during holiday or special occasion time. Maybe you get more muddy puddles to step in. Yes times like Christmas do have a habit of throwing those curve balls, most definitely when your on the grief journey.
If you do stand in one of those muddy puddles, your not alone. We can do this.
The first proper autumnal fog, the first of many….
I was looking at an online social media chat about Bereavement ….. well it beats watching my team try to play football. The chat was all about the recent UK State Funeral and how it had triggered emotions in many about their own personal losses. It is hard to watch a funeral and not be reminded of matters much closer to hand. I must admit as I watched the Funeral, one thought really struck me. How on earth do you grieve in front of millions, I couldn’t do it in front 40 people.
Two funerals in 6 weeks and I didn’t grieve at either of them. Focused on an 8 year old and trying to process far too many thoughts. I’m not that sure I took any of the funerals in. I can’t remember anything that was said. Can’t remember the music. Can’t remember that much at all. I can remember my brother whispering something in my ear that brought a half smile. I can remember standing with Hawklad looking at a fishpond after his mums funeral. That’s about it. Just felt like it was about waiting for them to be over.
It does feel so strange that I took far more in for a woman I had never met than I ever did for either of my mum or partner. I sometimes wish I had a video of both Funerals so I could experience them, hear what was said. Feel a part of them after 6 years.
Back to the online chat, the consensus was very similar. Mostly funerals are an ordeal, to organise, to sit through. Often the grieving can only really start when you have the funeral behind you. That definitely was my experience, it felt like it was months and months later before I started. This may sound crazy but until that point I was hurting but I wasn’t grieving. I wasn’t really accepting the reality, wasn’t ready to let go. Maybe if I had let the Funerals in more, maybe I would have been more receptive to grieving.
The fog of life might have started to clear much sooner.
A Dad trying to cope with the loss of his Partner and becoming a single parent. 